#I adore Hudson so much

[shutxdysdark]

I drew my fav cod man!!

I adore him!! Look at him!!

LOOK AT HUDSON RIGHT NOW!!

[roe-and-memory]

jeff gordon and his crew chief are so lightning and doc core

[minkieater]

three fates ⟶ khj ⋆ ★

p. kim hongjoong x f!reader w. lots of drug use, and i mean a lot, so please if u don't like drugs don't read this !! 18+ there's smut too, minors dni PLS addiction, consumption, sex while intoxicated, age gap (18 and 22/21 and 24) lemme know if i missed anything!! wc. 13.6k <3

she's finally here <3 my baby!! i am in love with this, this is my favorite thing i've written, city boy joongie is my heart and soul. takes place in the same world as luck & carousel, but none of the characters we've met so far are here !!

♫ — one of these nights, the eagles “i’ve been searching for the daughter of the devil himself i’ve been looking for an angel in white i’ve been waiting for a woman who’s a little of both i can feel her but she's nowhere in sight”

hongjoong is an artist, a creator. everything he’s ever seen, touched, smelled or heard, every little thing he’s ever come in contact with could and has been used in his art in one way or another. he couldn’t help himself, he saw the beauty in everything, from the gloaming atop the horizon of the hudson river on the third day of his bender to the massive rats playing tag in the subway station in downtown brooklyn. 

his clothes, his jewelry, his music, his apartment, his friends… everything and everyone is gorgeous, it has to be that way. the well of his creativity never runs dry, not living in this city, not with the life he’s created for himself. 

coming from a small brownstone in brooklyn, he lived with his parents and younger sister, a quiet girl that was nothing like him. he was always the rambunctious older brother, could never keep his grades up, couldn’t go a week in school without getting in trouble. she, the scholar, was his parents’ shining star, as well as his own. he hoped she wouldn’t be anything like him, anything like their father. 

he’d never compared himself to her, he knew he was just wired differently, a chemical concoction in his head that made him who he was and he loved it. he couldn’t picture his life, himself, any differently. he could never stay focused on one thing, always moving to the next project, always bouncing from opportunity to opportunity. 

when he got into high school reality set in of where he lived, who he surrounded himself with, what exactly was accessible to him at all times. from alcohol to drugs to shows to backstages to underground raves, hongjoong learned very quickly the different paths he could take, the routes his life could go in. 

he was a junkie, a junkie for adrenaline, for excitement, for anything this godforsaken city had to offer him. so he experimented. 

his friends were just like him — loud, outspoken, covered in piercings and tattoos, much too young to have gotten them done professionally. they looked for nothing but a good time, they didn’t care about school, didn’t care about their futures, they cared about a sick guitar riff and how much their dealers were charging for an ounce of weed. 

like his father, they introduced hongjoong to good music. growing up he listened to all his father’s favorite bands, from alice in chains to black sabbath to pearl jam, it set a tone for his future, laid the grounds for what the following decade of his life would look like. he spent weeknights, weekends, every night he wasn’t watching his younger sister he’d be at a different show in the city. no name bands, ones that were trying to get a foot in the door to the music industry to DJ sets at underground raves, blinding shows with flashing lights and a thumping bass he’d end up rolling at every damn time. 

hongjoong’s friends introduced him to many, many things, but his favorite would have to be cocaine. feeling on top of the world, like he can accomplish anything and everything, hongjoong adored the white powder he often sniffed with a crisp dollar bill. his personality alone was akin to it, he bounced off the walls all by himself, but during a night of drinking the main thing that kept him going, pushing through until sunrise was the bag full of blow in his back pocket. 

it got him through high school, it made him pay attention, it made him ask too many questions in class. it gave him confidence, he felt like the most attractive person in the world, like he was at the top of the food chain. it made him optimistic toward his future, he knew he’d become successful no matter what he did whenever he was at the peak of his high. 

what he despised about blow was the come down. from feeling untouchable to drained of everything he was worth in about all of forty five minutes, that he couldn’t stand. the one solution, the only solution that every single one of his friends had given him: “joong, you just need to do another line.” 

so he did, he always did more, but one thing about cocaine is that you never feel as good as that first line, the one that makes you untouchable, unstoppable, unkillable. he never thought he’d feel that again, that beautiful, unique euphoria, until he was a freshman in college, at a grimey city nightclub’s show of your band’s debut. 

he watched you in awe, blown pupils taking in every last detail of you strumming your guitar. how your fingers moved from string to string, black painted fingertips going white from the pressure. how your hair flowed in the air as your head banged to the drums, how your red lips stained the microphone when you sang into it. he grew up listening to music, he spent years listening to great bands and really terrible ones, by now he knew the difference. 

he knew then and there what field his career would lay in. dirt caked the floor he stood on, posters and receipts and papers of the sort covered the walls, the disgusting nightclub he now owed everything to offered him two things, you and the chance to make something of himself. 

he knew your band was special, knew you had the raw talent to make it big. he wanted to see it, he could picture it now, your faces stretched across a billboard in times square. it was exciting, this feeling that flushed through him, knowing he was watching celebrities perform before they had their break, their break that would come soon if they just had someone to sign them. 

he did everything in his power to wait diligently for your set to be over, already knowing that he and his friends would make it backstage, a routine for them every time they came to these shows. his head nodded along to the music, a can of beer in his hand, his hair tickling the back of his neck every time the main singer hit a note he himself couldn’t. 

when your band finally made their last bow, thanking the crowd for their attendance and cheers, hongjoong felt the adrenaline in his fingertips. he was so, so close to meeting you, telling your band what he thought, buying you a drink. so close to taking you back to his dorm, untying your skimpy black bikini top, learning your tattoos to memory. 

he usually went for the drummer — that he knew by now. after a few lines and a six pack he would ache to be bent over, or be the one bending someone over, that didn’t matter to him. what did matter was that he wanted a good fuck, he planned on it, he craved it, from trial and error his eyes always landed back on the drummer. it hasn’t failed him yet. 

he wasn’t sure what made you different, why you caught his eye on the small stage, what stopped him from eyeing up the green haired drummer he couldn’t place. you were magnetic, with your bulky boots, revealing clothes, intriguing tattoos and piercings all up your ears. he wanted to smear the lipstick you wore down your chin, wanted to see it all over himself, prints of crimson running down his torso. he shivered, desire crawling up his spine when he pictured it, it was too easy, your stage presence was like no other.

when he got backstage and first saw you sitting on the torn up couch, handheld mirror in your grasp with three perfectly parallel lines laid across the glass, the confirmation was instant. you had a debit card on your lap, a rolled up dollar bill, sunglasses and that very lipstick he was fantasizing about laid across your thigh. a smile broke out across his face, one wicked and knowing, one that told everyone in the room hongjoong had found his game for the night. 

you looked up to him from the amber colored couch, patches of questionable browns and grays mimicking a pattern across the rough material. your pupils were blown, huge and empty, matching the ones that stared back into them. the room backstage was small, a space he deemed claustrophobic, much too boxy for the amount of people occupying it. a mirror, a clothing rack and a couch, not much for a band to prepare for a show. he was impressed to say the least that a band of your aptitude had put on such a good performance in these conditions. 

his friends went around the room in commendation, giving each member their own praise, complimenting the band as a whole. hongjoong was excited to do the same when he was in the crowd, but being back here with the adrenaline from the show being thick in the room, a voice told him to stay quiet, something that was close to impossible for him. 

“you,” you began, and hongjoong’s neck snapped to you, greeted with a finger pointed directly at himself, “where did you get your jeans?” 

“diesel,” he looked down to the ripped denim hugging his skinny legs, “vintage, i thrifted them from the shop on sackett.” 

he watched as the eyes he couldn’t see the color of glanced up and down his figure, taking in every detail of his outfit, his body. you glanced back down to the mirror in your palm then back up to him, “you want a line?” 

hongjoong’s feet were moving before he nodded yes. he sat down next to you on the decrepit couch, seated on the cushion in the middle. your hand moved under his chin and he could see his reflection in the glass below the lines, rich chocolate blending in with pupils, too wide to be able to tell where they started or ended. 

he took the dollar from your raw, discolored fingers and sniffed, taking the line closest to you on the end. he was wide awake then, energy flooding his veins like he’d just slept for fourteen hours and drank three cups of coffee. his smile returned as he glanced at you, watched you do the same, took in every detail.

your hair, tucked behind your ears, laid in front of your shoulders far past the string of your bikini top. your lips were in a tight line, a streak of blood red below your nose, which had the rolled up bill just beneath the surface of your right nostril. he watched you sniff once, twice, both lines disappearing from the glass in your palm, your head tilting back with an additional sniff and a knuckle to your cupid's bow. 

he watched in awe, a sparkle in his empty pupils, a flare in the sea of vast darkness. his dick twitched in his pants as he lost himself in the moment, his fogged up yet crystal clear head morphed you into some kind of seductress, a succubus, he had no chance of getting out of whatever spell you put him under, not that he needed one. all he could do, all he wanted to do is succumb. 

succumb he did when you pressed him against the front door of your apartment, grabbed him by the throat and took him for everything he was worth. you were nonstop from that moment on the couch all the way to your apartment in queens, hands exploring and lips touching, tasting, giving, taking, there was no moment of question. no time to waste, not a fact to be shared, just a carnal desire that poured out of himself and into you, into your veins, into the blood that shared a color with your lipstick smeared onto hongjoong’s jaw. 

he smirked knowing he got what he wanted, knowing he always gets what he wants, he was just that kind of person. shrouded in luck, like he had a guardian angel who refused to leave his side. from where he’s been to what he’s done, there was no way he should be alive, the chances of survival for a guy like him are slim to none. 

the first time was in the bathroom of that club, where he pushed you into a stall and bent you over the toilet, your hands gripping onto a wall that you were sure had never been cleaned. markings of sharpie covered every inch, lewd and crude sayings, initials in hearts, phone numbers of random people who wronged the person that wrote it. you took every inch of him proudly, lifted your leg onto the toilet seat, ushering him to hit deeper, to empty himself inside you. 

you left that bathroom in heavy breaths and lust darkened eyes, only for the two of you to last one more drink and another key bump before you were below the ground, on the subway to your apartment.

you didn’t get any farther than the entryway where you grabbed him by the throat, ushering for him to give into you, a power he didn’t just give away to anyone. he chuckled darkly and switched your bodies quickly, pressing your face against the art covered wall instead of the front door, smacking your ass with a force that made you cry out. he knew what you were, he could see it when you were onstage, nothing but a pain slut that let him fuck you in one of the dirtiest bathrooms he’s ever seen. 

a low laugh left his lungs when he felt your core, fingers slipping through your release and his own cum that you’d been saving for later. he was immediately on his knees, eating it out of you, tasting the two of you mixed into one. the second time was in that very entryway, where he took you against the wall once more, this time with a low dim light peeking through the windows and a clear scent of fresh laundry and vanilla floating through the space. much cleaner, much sweeter, the opposite of what the two of you had endured just an hour earlier.

he ended the night in your bed, where he took you for a third, fourth and fifth, neither of you sleeping a wink. with the sunrise coming in through your half open window, sounds of sirens and cars passed by, drifting through the translucent rose colored curtains making them ruffle and bend to the noise. you had a cigarette between your lips, a tray with four more parallel lines sitting at the foot of the bed. you were naked, your tattoos your only blanket, hongjoong the same beside you. 

“can’t believe you’re a fucking freshman in college,” you laughed through the smoke leaving your lips, a saccharine sound mixed with the smell of tobacco and menthol, “please tell me you’ve at least turned nineteen.”

hongjoong nodded, letting his fingers continue to trail your thigh, tracing the outline of the dragon that was soaring through the skin of your hip, “i’ll be twenty in november.” 

a lie, one he knew would be believed, one that allowed you to sigh out in relief. he’d slept with much older, your measly twenty two was nothing to him, just another thursday night after a show, another experience to add to his arsenal. 

“you said you go to NYU right? what’s an NYU student doing in brooklyn?” hongjoong smiled at that, he loved when people knew absolutely nothing about it him, made assumptions based on one thing they’d heard. he could make up anything he wanted, he could be whoever he wanted to be, not that you’d ever find out the truth. you’d never hear from him again after he stepped foot onto the sidewalk outside, back to his dorm, back to his roommate who would be waiting to ask him a million questions about his excursion. 

tonight he was hongjoong, the nineteen year old that’d fucked you five different times in nine different ways, snorted countless lines of blow and hungout with a band he knew would make it. he wasn’t eighteen year old student hongjoong who was going to NYU because his parents were pushing him into accomplishing something, anything, trying relentlessly to get him out of the city’s gutter. 

“to be fair, we’re in queens,” he cracked a smile, the corner of his lips lifting, “i grew up in bushwick, i come whenever i can. got lots of friends that still live around here.”

he didn’t know why he was being honest, this was his favorite part. maybe a small part of him was tired of lying, even if he’d done it already, he was ready for truth, ready for it to be laid bare for him, ready for it to point him in yet another direction. he didn’t care which direction it would send him in from your dingy apartment in queens, he just hoped it was upward, to something better than what he came from. 

“why aren’t you guys signed yet?” there it was, the question that’s been clawing at him all night, sat fresh on his mind even when he was buried inside of you. the one truth he wanted to know, not your name that he already couldn’t remember, your age that’d already become irrelevant, or your address that he’d never even learned.

you sighed again, running a hand through your hair, collapsing into the plush pillows beneath you, “a few agencies have tried, none have been worth it. contracts are too strict, we won’t get paid enough, the companies aren’t popular enough. yasu handles all of that, i’m just told what we do or what we don’t do.”

“so if the right label approached you, one with money and connections and a contract that was perfect, you’d sign with them?” hongjoong asked, letting his eyes flutter shut, not that he felt tired. he’d need at least twenty milligrams of valium for that and even then it probably wouldn’t lure him to sleep, just enough to take the edge off, to let his head lie still.

you laughed, a bitter chuckle, “like who? republic fucking records? we’re performing in run down clubs across the city, we have miles to go before an agency worth anything takes an interest in us.”

hongjoong smiled through his eyes that stayed closed, that same smile he wore last night, the one that was both wicked and knowing. he could see it in front of him, an idea, a dream, a career. if he didn’t feel like shit he’d call up his parents and thank them for sending him to NYU, thank them for the opportunity to do something right with his life. his roommate would get a kick out of this. 

he sat up on the bed and leaned forward, pulling the silver platter on his lap. he picked up the dollar bill that was slowly losing its shape with every sniff and lifted it to his nose, railing two lines from the tray. he tilted his head back and shook it, giving one last sniff before he was off. 

“i have class,” he said as he searched for his pants around your cluttered bedroom before remembering he’d undressed in the entryway. you sat up with wide eyes, blinking at his sudden departure after a night of wild sex and snorting all of your coke. 

“wait,” you called after him as he nearly ran through the bedroom door, “i want to give you my number, call me if you ever want to come see our show again, or if you want to do this again.”

he smiled from the open door in which the frame towered over him, shooting you a finger that said wait before he went in search of his clothes, phone, and wallet. he returned and saved your number in his phone, leaving the contact name as tattoo girl. in the moment it’d seemed easiest to remember you by. 

he never ended up calling you, never ended up seeing another show that you mentioned. he went back to his dorm, to his life, and changed his major with a speed he hadn’t experienced before, despite his whole life being quick. he ate quick, he thought quick, he grew up quick, he learned quick, he did everything at such a rate he’d never experienced whiplash. this was normal.  

music technology classes were not easy, but he thought himself lucky for the brain he was born with, his ability to adapt. for once in his life hongjoong wasn’t just good at school, he was excelling. 

the connections he formed, his ever growing ability to network himself, show off his extensive knowledge of music itself, its history, the music scene in the city. never in his life had he thought he was born for something, never thought he had a purpose, just thought of himself as an open minded creative person who loved a good time. as he got deeper into his major which he thankfully didn’t change again, he realized there was one thing that remained constant all throughout his life, one thing that stayed with him through every phase, got him through every hump in the road. 

when he came home that morning with pupils swallowing his eye color whole and lungs that had no breath left in them, he told his roommate he was changing his major and mingi was relieved. he was relieved and grateful, smiling because the first friend he made at NYU was going to be beside him for more than just sleepless nights across the dorm, letting out a sigh he kept trapped in his lungs because now could keep a better eye on hongjoong. the night before he was worried out of his mind, even if he knew hongjoong was born and raised in the city, mingi was raised in south korea. 

mingi was told since he first started mentioning new york city to his friends and family to be careful, he had all of the horror stories told to him in depth, used as a weapon to scare him out of coming to the states. he never thought twice about it until he got here, stood face to face with hongjoong, and learned every dirty secret he had to offer. then he believed the horror stories, he believed that the city’s wretched dark side could really kill someone dead, even hongjoong who had become a good friend to him. 

that fear was short lived, it was cut short the moment hongjoong took him to his first show in brooklyn. hongjoong could see the excitement in his eyes, that same adrenaline rush hongjoong considered himself addicted to as he watched mingi snort his first line of blow. he felt prideful, like he’d taken mingi under his wing and rebirthed him into a weapon the city couldn’t touch, couldn’t harm. he offered mingi the city’s beauty, the bright lights of the buildings at night, the pleasure of a woman he’d just met mere minutes ago. 

the two of them became a pair, and hongjoong had grown to love the friendship, love the closeness that came with it. he wasn’t used to sharing so much time with one other person, he kept to himself if he wasn’t with his group of friends, even when he still lived at home he didn’t see the need for having one person to put all of his trust into. 

mingi taught him a lot of things, the first being how to keep his head on straight and screw it tight. he kept hongjoong grounded, kept him centered around his music, kept him looking forward and never backward. he kept hongjoong flowing, retelling stories of nights they’d gone out together when hongjoong was feeling himself hit a creative block. mingi pulled hongjoong out of his hole when he’d snorted one too many lines, he’d put him in the shower, force feed him valium like it was candy. 

it wasn’t until hongjoong was sat on a wooden stool in the soundproof booth of his school’s recording studio two years later that he’d be reminded of you again. strumming along to into the void by black sabbath, a song he loved since he was young, getting frustrated when his fingers slipped up around the bridge, they always slipped up at the bridge — the chords were so close together, it was ironic that something which took speed would trip him up. 

“joong!” mingi called from outside of the booth, turning the microphone on, ripping hongjoong from his frustrations. “i got accepted! you need to check your email now.”

hongjoong left the booth in a rush, swinging his guitar back into its stand haphazardly, pushing the microphone he was keeping close to his lap back into the open space of the recording booth. he grabbed his phone and opened the email, relief washing over him like the stream from his apartment’s moldy shower head when he read we have selected you to join republic records as a production intern for the spring term.

hongjoong looked to mingi with wide, disbelieving eyes, unable to form a single reason why one of the biggest record labels in the city would accept him, choose him. hongjoong had been more than proficient in his work, with his grades, with forming relationships with big names in the industry — but at the end of the day, when he looked at himself in the mirror, all he saw was the same sixteen year old boy from brooklyn who’s only future was spent on the sidewalks of manhattan, maybe a shelter if he was fortunate enough. not a cent to his name, barely any clothes on his back, spending his adult years asking faceless people for a couple dollars just to buy himself a burger. 

it was his parents’ biggest fear, it kept his mother up all night in her queen sized bed, his father no doubt already passed out drunk beside her. she laid there with wide eyes listening to his snores, staring at her cracked ceiling praying for the day she gets to watch her son walk across that big stage, graduation cap flattening his shaggy haircut. she smiled at the thought, but the severity of the situation hit her much deeper, it wiped the smile right off her face. hongjoong was a wild card, she never knew what to do with him, how to keep him walking in a straight line, her last attempt was sending him to such a prestigious college. she begged him to see the value, see what she was sacrificing to send him there, see the desperation she slipped over her head like a uniform when hongjoong was at the ripe age of twelve. 

“you’re in production?” mingi twisted his neck to look over hongjoong’s shoulder, the height difference making it easy for him, “i’m in artist relations.” 

“what’s artist relations?” hongjoong asked while lifting a brow, looking up to the phone his lanky best friend held tight in his hand. 

mingi moved the phone lower, closer to him, sharing the screen to read the email word for word, “interns work closely with signed artists to assist in their day-to-day needs, organizing promotional activities, tours, and managing communications between the artist and the label.”

hongjoong laughed at that, his head tipping back, his eyes fluttering shut in hysterics. mingi’s cheeks flushed, his mouth shut tight and lips lifting at the edges ever so slightly, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. it took hongjoong a moment to get it together before he said, “so you’re someone’s personal assistant?” 

“no!” mingi’s voice was raised, he took a breath, “yes, maybe, i guess so, whatever! i’m still interning at republic and a hierarchy is something to climb no matter where you start.” 

hongjoong laughed again, clutching his stomach that had a slight ache in the pit then looked down to his lit up screen, “i’m assisting with music recording, mixing, and mastering. may help in studios, learning about the technical side of producing records, blah blah blah. i got the good one.” 

“shut up,” mingi grumbled, locking his phone and shoving it in his pocket, “asshole, they're both good, i was excited. don’t ruin it.” 

“i’m just fucking with you, ming, you should be excited. being a personal assistant means you get the inside scoop,” hongjoong smirks, “plus we can tell each other about our jobs.” he lifts his index finger, already thinking of what comes next, “we’re gonna learn every inch of that place and every job before we even get hired, we’ll be behind the big desk in no time.”

mingi nods as if hongjoong’s strategy had planted itself directly into his head through shared brain waves, “you’re right, you’re so right, holy shit you’re so right.” 

hongjoong’s eyes go wide again, the realization settling in, “we’re interns at republic records.” 

it brought him back to that night, you with your husky voice and tattooed legs and piercings that shone in the path of moonlight through your bedroom window, the cigarette you held between two dainty fingers … you that brought him here, you that handed him this idea along with four white lines on a silver platter. 

pieces started falling into place, everything started to click, he remembered just a month ago he saw an advertisement for your band, a black piece of paper stuck to a light pole, performing at the red lion in greenwich village. he didn’t spare it a second thought, didn’t even process that he knew you when he saw it, too engrossed in how he was rushing to a class he was late for and the music in his headphones and the redbull he was juggling between his phone and laptop and keys. 

he didn’t think much of it again until he was two months deep in his internship, walking through the dim hallways of republic records with two cups of coffee in his hands, one for himself and one for the producer he was working next to that day. he walked by one of the practice rooms, door shut with a square window in the center, he caught nothing but a glimpse of your hair but it was enough to make him stop in his tracks, to feel the coffee in the confines of their cups threaten to overflow their lids.

he stopped there for a moment, peered through the glass box, let his brain backtrack to that fall of two years ago. god, what the hell was your name again?

he couldn’t hear a note yet he longed for the main singer’s mellifluous voice to kiss his pierced ears, he could see you working the crowd in his memories when you were performing for nothing but a blank brown wall, he let his eyes drift to the green haired drummer. what could have been. 

he pulled himself from the trance you had pulled him under again, much similar to when he first met you. hair cut shorter, edgier, more ink filling spaces in your soft skin that were empty the last time he saw you, much more clothing on your body this time around. at this point you must be twenty four, hongjoong himself just twenty one, just legal to drink in public, not that his age had ever stopped him before. it didn’t stop him from doing anything he wanted. 

he kept walking, beckoning his legs to push one foot in front of the other before he arrived back at the studio he was in for the day. he felt cloudy, like he needed a line, something to pull him out of his head, but he needed to reminisce. he remembered your conversation even in his coked out state, the way you laughed at him for suggesting such a perfect label to exist, the way republic records slipped off your tongue like it was nothing but a pipe dream you stored in the darkest corners of your head.

hongjoong believed in fate, he always told himself there was no other reason for his life to be the way it is. hongjoong had experienced plenty, he’d woken up on too many stoops in neighborhoods he started the night across from, had one too many syringes full of narcan shot in his arm when his cocaine was cut with fentanyl. he’d survived to tell the tale, not just survived but he kept living, what else did he have to thank? 

sheer luck, a guardian angel, fate, whatever it was he was thankful it stayed with him for so long, perched on his shoulder when he’d do the same things that made the front page of the new york times. there were too many lines in his life that crossed, too many threads that webbed for there not to be some external force, something he didn’t have a hand in. when yours and his threads crossed, got tangled that one night in the pits of brooklyn, he couldn’t help but think that the two years he’d spent his life up to this moment was the untangling. 

as mingi stood in their shared apartment later that night, telling him about his day, talking about the band he was assigned to, hongjoong couldn’t believe his ears when the word clotho left mingi’s lips. out of all the interns, all the employees in that massive building, all of the record labels in the city, you signed to the agency he worked for and mingi was assigned to assist you. 

he let him speak, let him complain about listening to your harsh demands, your continual need to practice the same song until they got it right, the way you flirted with mingi and how mingi ate it up. he let mingi speak with open ears, normal sized pupils and a nasty drip sliding down the back of his throat before he had enough. pulling the bag of his coke from his pocket he grabbed his favorite tray he kept right on the coffee table, spread the snow and cut it with a card from his wallet and sniffed. no dollar bill, no straw he sliced in half, just a finger pressed to his pierced nostril leaving the other one raw and full of blow. 

“christ, joong, it’s eight at night on a monday,” mingi shook his head at his friend, “do you really need to be railing lines right now?”

“i fucked her,” hongjoong admitted plainly, crossing his right leg back over his left knee.

“what? who?” mingi asked, his eyebrows reaching his hairline, leaning over in the recliner in their shared living room. 

“the guitarist from clotho, the one who’s name apparently neither of us know,” hongjoong chuckled before shaking out his arms, shaking off the discomfort of a possession he had no right feeling, “i fucked her.”

mingi sat there, blinking, not a word leaving his lips for moments before his brain turned back on, “i won’t- i didn’t know- when did you even?”

hongjoong waved him off with ring clad fingers before standing, walking towards his bedroom, “do what you want with her, just figured i’d let you know.”

hongjoong never had a girlfriend, a boyfriend, a relationship that lasted longer than one drunken night. even when he was younger he’d never experienced the puppy love all of his peers got themselves into, the only desire he felt was the rush of getting away with something, he’s craved that since before he can remember. possession wasn’t an emotion he was used to, one he rarely experienced at all, he couldn’t pinpoint why that spark of control showed itself when talking to mingi of all people. 

he left your apartment in a race that night, he couldn’t of cared less about you in the moment, he never thought about you again until two months ago, over two years after he slept with you in the first place. he thought you special maybe, a fucked up train of thought when he couldn’t even remember your name, special despite how utterly ordinary that night was. special because he had you to thank for the path he was on now, what he's accomplished since that night with you. maybe it was gratitude, adoration, maybe just someone to look up to if he considered your success comparable to his own, he didn’t know and it was driving him insane. 

his night with you was nothing out of the ordinary, he did nothing with you that he hadn’t done with tens of other people, yet the pedestal still remains tall. he tried to think about it in his sleepless night yet he got absolutely nowhere, no resolution, no explanation for the whirlwind he’d put himself through over hours. he sat up in his bed and sighed, a cold sweat lingering on his tanned skin, then he grabbed the guitar from beside his bed. 

he let the feeling consume him that night, let it pour out into every note his painted fingers strummed along the guitar. as the sun peeked through his bedroom window the next morning he decided that one night of thinking was all he could handle, he chose to let the feelings be what they are and put them on the old metal rack along with his guitar. 

he didn’t see you through that window to the practice room again, and he’d purposely walked by plenty of times in the weeks to follow. coming into mid march, for some reason the company was busy. hongjoong was keeping up, of course he was, juggling the workload from the producer he worked with and then everything else that was added to his plate by numerous other producers of the company. hongjoong was famous in that building, he was a dream intern, every person of a higher rank in that building wanted him for something. 

hongjoong loved it, he loved the attention, he loved being depended on, he loved being busy most of all. reaching deadlines, bouncing back and forth between different artists and their own genre of music, hongjoong was nothing but a sponge in the ocean that was republic records. he soaked everything in, he learned everything, he remembered everything, he loved that his extensive knowledge was only ranging farther. 

when he woke up that morning to the sunrise and a clear head after playing acoustic versions of rock songs all fucking night, he did exactly what he told himself he was going to. even if he wanted to think about you again he didn’t have a moment to himself to be able to, his internship was taking up so much of his personal time most days his homework wasn’t even a priority. the internship told him when he started to let them know if the workload was too much, if it was affecting his studies, but in what world would he do that? after leaving his bubble of adolescence of being a regular college student and entering the adult world, his career, why would school come first? he was already doing it, already loved by so many people, it was only right that hongjoong would fixate on what was working. 

“we’re recording today,” jag, the producer he worked with, didn’t even have the decency to greet hongjoong with a hello. so backed up, so overworked, jag looked like he hadn’t slept in three days.

“with who?” hongjoong paid no mind to his unpleasant greeting, setting a coffee down right in front of him. jag’s eyes widened, a sparkle shining through the deepest of browns, he immediately brought the cup up to his chapped lips. jag’s favorite, this hongjoong knew by now, he also knew how jag worked, how to put him in a better mood even on his worst days. 

“clotho,” jag said after a refreshing sigh, pleased with the hot drink he was gifted, “they’re finishing up their album, they’ve been working with max for majority of the recording. max called out sick, so they’re with us.”

hongjoong’s eyebrows raised, his mouth opening ever so slightly. jag caught on to the surprise, much like how observant hongjoong was, jag also paid a lot of attention to the boy with the sand colored mullet. jag snickered, “you have the same look on your face as when you slept with anitta and we had her in the booth the next day.”

“you know me too well,” hongjoong sat down in the chair beside him and let out a noise of relief as he got comfortable, cracking his knuckles as he spoke, “i fucked the guitarist.”

jag laughed, a belly laugh from the pit of his stomach, “which one?”

“the lead guitarist, the one covered neck to toe in tattoos,” hongjoong brings his attention to the monitor, an entirely different project jag was working on spread across the screen.

jag rubbed his face with his hands, “do we need to get every artist an STD test? i’m starting to get scared you’ll cause an outbreak.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes before responding with a playful smile, “you know i’m clean.”

their small talk didn’t get much further before your band was barreling through the studio, yawns and huffs of air being thrown about the space. hongjoong kept it professional, he kept his focus on the mixing board, the monitor, pulling up the file to the tracks that they were working on that day. 

you looked… tired. no makeup, guitar case strapped to your back, tattoos hiding under the cotton of your sweats. it was early, the company had them working not just at dawn but also on the weekend, two things that weren’t normal for scheduling or recording. you didn’t notice him yet, or you were ignoring him, hongjoong wasn’t sure but he also didn’t care. he needed to get you in that booth, get the recording done as fast as possible so he could meet his friends at baby’s all right later. 

at the start of the first track on the album they’d record that day, hongjoong knew the moment you saw him, the second you recognized his pierced nose and shaggy hair that was much longer now than the last time you’d seen him. he could see it in the way your eyes widened and the pause you took before you took your pick from your lips, he watched the gears turn in your head, he watched every memory play out in your eyes from that night two years ago. jag seemed to notice too by the way his palm slapped hongjoong’s knee under the desk, a breath of amusement leaving his lips. 

your movements were slowed, it took you entirely too long to shift the microphone so it stood correctly in front of you, but you shook yourself out of your thoughts as the rhythm guitarist played the first few clean, arpeggiated chords. this song… hongjoong recognized it immediately, the memories once again flooding back to him.

once you got through the haunting intro, through the slow burn build into heavier, distorted riffs, hongjoong thought that you might be a siren, too. instead of a melodic voice, it was the resonance you played through the strings under your calloused fingertips hooking him, once again pulling him into a trance, a spell you weren’t even conscious of casting. when it got to your solo in the middle of the song, backed up with an underlying chord progression from the rhythm guitarist and a deep bass line, he could feel it from head to toe. the entrapment, the sight in front of him that he couldn’t bear to look away from. the back up instruments set a platform, a center for you to take the stage in the small recording booth, for the focus of the listener to hear you, focus on you. 

he had a job. he had buttons to press, things to adjust, he had to listen with an assessing ear, he had to snap out of it. he watched as your chipped nail polish slipped from string to string, the other hand clenched tightly around your guitar pick. he watched as you nodded along to the drums, eyebrows furrowed in focus of following the mid tempo groove, listening to the song as much as you were playing it. he knew that feeling, that multitasking, listening and doing and following and evaluating all at once. 

he blinked a few times before directing his focus to the monitor instead of watching you shred in the booth, he fell in and out of focus for the entire session between his eyes being locked on you and making sure your song was being recorded properly. he thought he’d let go of what he felt, laid his feelings to rest in his favorite instrument beside his bed, but as he watched you strum along to the fourth track they’d record that day he decided maybe there was a reason your paths crossed once again. 

just like that one night spent with him and his music, the feelings he didn’t want to address, he spiraled into yet another torment of not being able to process anything. all he had was this unidentifiable emotion, a pang in his chest, he didn’t know what to do with it or how to address it properly. he looked at from all sides, contradicted himself, tried to unpack it for exactly what it was, but he still felt himself unable to move from square one. 

by the end of the session hongjoong’s brain was on backwards, he was barely of help to jag the entire time you were in the booth. jag gave him a pass even if he was entirely confused as to why hongjoong was acting so fucking weird, he’d never acted so out of it, even during the session with anitta. jag chopped it up to the fact that hongjoong was probably overworked much like himself, even if something tugged at him, telling him there was more going on in hongjoong’s head than just exhaustion. 

the rest of the session went a lot easier than hongjoong thought it would based off of the insight he’d gotten from mingi, but he guessed he shouldn’t have assumed how you’d act from just one conversation that was ages ago. mingi hadn’t mentioned you or the band again since that night, deeming it a sensitive topic, one he’d like to avoid since him and hongjoong kept the people they fucked very separate, except for those they shared. you were rather quiet towards hongjoong, only what was necessary for getting the recording done, he couldn’t pull anything from you except for eyes boring into the back of his head from across the room and a short snap of a complaint when he noticed a bleed from the microphone. 

hongjoong was exhausted beyond belief by eight o’clock yet he still had an entire night ahead of him. he packed up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, relieved he was about to go drink away the new emotions he’d encountered.

“you alright?” jag asked, a weird question coming from jag who usually kept their conversations light hearted, he rarely picked hongjoong apart.

“‘m fine, just tired,” hongjoong waved him off with a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. jag lifted an eyebrow, too curious but too scared to ask. him and hongjoong’s relationship was specific, a teacher and his student, despite the not always innocent conversation that sometimes felt like it was between two friends. he didn’t find it his place to intervene on the conversation that’s been going on for hours in hongjoong’s head, better to let hongjoong come to him if need be.

“see you monday,” was all jag called after hongjoong who had already left the studio’s door, an echo through the heavy wood. 

hongjoong didn’t expect to turn and see you pressed up against the wall, guitar encased at your side, the sleeves of your sweatshirt rolled up to your elbows. you smiled, an eerie smile, one that told hongjoong everything he was feeling earlier was about to be intensified, amplified, much like the sound of your instrument. 

“you didn’t think to tell me you worked here?” you tilted your head, the smile of a cheshire cat sitting wide on your cheekbones. 

“and how would i do that?” hongjoong grabbed your guitar case from beside the wall and began walking, ushering you to follow along. if you were going to talk, it should be away from jag’s curious ears. 

“maybe make use of the phone number you’ve had in your phone for two years?” it sounded like a question but hongjoong assumed it was more of an instruction, a curious sentence that left much to be dissected. 

hongjoong laughed a soft chuckle, “i didn’t think it was necessary.”

“well that’s rude,” you scoffed, grabbing your guitar case from his hand and swinging it over your own shoulder, “this is the last place i would’ve expected to see you.”

“and i feel the opposite,” he turned to look at you, almost his height in your platform sneakers, “you laughed at me when i knew exactly where you’d end up.” 

“ah, buttering me up now, are we?” you smirked, “didn’t know you thought so highly of clotho.” 

“why else would i sleep with the lead guitarist?” hongjoong joked, his own smile growing wide, the fog he felt in the studio was long gone by the time you reached the end of the hallway. entering the space just before the elevator to take them down to the lobby, hongjoong pressed the button and faced you. 

“that’s fucked up,” you said between your giggles, “you wanna be my groupie now?” you shifted your weight to one foot, making yourself just smaller than the man before you. “i’ll allow it, i guess.” 

“who said i wanted to do it again?” hongjoong’s mischievous smile was permanent across his cheeks now and you gasped, slapping his bicep. the elevator dinged and opened quickly, an empty dimly lit space demanding you to continue the conversation.

“what are you doing later?” you asked as you stepped inside, leaning against the bar that was fused against the wall opposite of hongjoong. 

“going to baby’s all right with a couple friends,” hongjoong answered plainly, ignoring the voice tugging at him to ask you to come with.

“got room for one more?” you beat him to it, you’ve been bold since the day he met you, he didn’t know why it took him by surprise. 

he stuttered a bit in his agreement and you told him to meet you at your apartment, a new one in brooklyn, not the one you used to occupy in queens. he didn’t have the strength to tell you he grew up in the same neighborhood, he knew your address like the back of his hand, that this is yet another thread sewn into the web. hongjoong believed in fate and he believed in signs, it seemed that every one was pointing in your direction. he trusted the signs, trusted in luck, trusted in fate, trusted in whatever kept itself on his shoulder that this path he was taking was the right one. 

he never cared much for right and wrong when it came to anything, especially entertaining the idea that his own actions would change how his life would turn out. hongjoong never had any goals or expectations for his life, he assumed how he’d turn out before the age of fifteen, he was careless unless it benefited him to put in an effort for anything yet he never considered that might put him on the wrong path, it just was what it was. from stealing a twenty dollar bill from his mother’s second hand coach bag to working alongside one of the most famous music producers in the city, before two years ago when hongjoong actually felt that he was moving upward, he never took into consideration that maybe his actions did have consequences, maybe he chose what path his life went in by the smallest of decisions. 

he showed up to your apartment late, much to your dismay, even if you were also late yourself. you took about ten more minutes after he’d buzzed up to your apartment to let you know he’d arrived, leaving him to his own devices on your stoop. when you’d finally walked out of your front door hongjoong’s right nostril twitched, he was used to only one thing giving him this kind of rush, this sensation he felt at every nerve ending. you were fucking breathtaking with your microscopic skirt and shirt so small he didn’t know if you could consider it anything other than a bra. makeup dark and sultry, lips so red he had flashbacks to when he scrubbed smudges of it off of the base of his neck. your hair was down and straightened, framing your cheekbones so beautifully, the shadows it created made you look like a creature of the night in the most dangerous way. 

he felt like he was looking at you for the first time all over again, the last two years had done you well, all of the coke and drinking and partying hadn’t aged you in the slightest. it was rare that excessive consumption didn’t affect one's appearance, most of his hometown friends had begun to resemble zombies years ago, you seemed to be immortal. the walk to the bar was short, less than ten blocks away, and hongjoong was grateful. he was using tonight for release, he needed to let go of everything he���s been responsible for, take a night to forget everything and just be. of course, out of all nights, someone who he worked with just a few hours ago would be accompany him, but at least it’s you.

“have you been to this place?” you asked, the innocence in your voice contradicting the heaviness of your boots hitting the concrete. 

hongjoong nodded, his hands shoved in his pockets, “many times.”

“we performed here a couple months ago i think, i don’t really remember it much, i got hammered as soon as we got off the stage,” you were talking mindlessly, just sparking up a conversation so you weren’t walking silently beside each other. 

“it’s cute, less grungy and dirty and more..” he racked his brain for a way to describe it, falling into a momentary silence, “picturesque for the instagram models of the city, i guess?”

you laughed at that, “then i’ll put your hands to good use and you can be my personal photographer for the night, my followers will be grateful.”

hongjoong’s lips grew into a smirk, “there are better ways to put my hands to use.”

“we still have a whole night to get through before i can attest to that,” you raised a finger towards him in protest, your own smile growing, the two of you falling into easier conversation once the flirting started up again. 

“we’ve only walked a block, we can easily turn around,” hongjoong came to a stop, looking back to the stretch of ground they had just hiked, eyes full of amusement yet he was also dead serious. there are plenty ways to let off steam.

you rolled your eyes, “normally i’d agree, but i’m in the mood to party and if you’re anything like you were two years ago i don’t think you’re capable of a quickie.”

the two of you fell into stride again, “i can say with confidence that i am not fond of quickies.”

you brought up work after that, talked about the album, compared recording with hongjoong and jag to max. hongjoong half tuned out at that, he answered where he needed to but he was over the work talk, he needed to get to that bar now. 

you met up with his hometown friends once you got there, people you slightly recognized from backstage two years ago, but there were a few hongjoong had to introduce you to. once you mentioned clotho you had more to talk about with the group of people, being the lead guitarist of a band signed by republic records was always a great conversation starter. 

hongjoong kept his tab open, let you order whatever you wanted on it for the night, to you that was an invitation to get fucked up as much as it was payback for snorting all of your coke two years ago. you were intrigued at this point, not just by hongjoong himself but about what was going on in his head. you’d assessed the situation while you were getting ready as much as you wanted to leave it at a free night of partying, but you couldn’t shake the curiosity that came along with the presence of kim hongjoong. 

after he had left your apartment two years ago in such a rush, you’d hoped he’d call you for at least two weeks after. even a text, whatever you could get from him was enough, because you’d never had a night like that with anyone, the sex being something that no other person you’d invited to your bed could compare to. everything about him physically, the shared interests, the banter, the easy conversation. you were coked out of your mind yet you still remember every detail of that night, even almost a thousand days later hongjoong had left his mark on you without it being intentional. 

then you saw him again, and he was working for you. he was sitting behind the mixing board with headphones on, looking unbothered as ever, you wondered if he even remembered you, if that night stayed with him the way it stayed with you. once your eyes met and you could feel the knowing shared from a single, too long stare through the glass, you had to talk to him, had to pick his brain, had to insert yourself into his life like what you shared wasn’t just one night so you could do it again.

you took his invitation and drank to your heart’s content, and he did, too. both of you ended up in the cramped crowd of the DJ, so unlike hongjoong, very much like you, drowning in a swamp of sweaty bodies. everyone was jumping, arms swinging to the beat, phones with flashes on all pointed towards the stage. hongjoong was gone as he planned, his mind forgetting everything except for the beautiful woman beside him, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. watching you as you jumped in the air, swaying to the music, everything bouncing to the bass, he was getting impatient and his dick could feel it. 

he needed a bump to take the edge off, reset him so he didn’t rush you out of your fun, he enjoyed seeing you so carefree. in your monologue about your album you’d seem stressed, hongjoong assumed you needed to get away for a night just as much as he did. 

“i need a bump,” he yelled over the music, grabbing your forearm that you kept at your side to get your attention, the other one hung above your head. 

“me too!” you yelled back, looking up to him with those big doe eyes, there goes his reset. he didn’t think you’d come with, too wrapped up in the set the DJ was playing, but he stupidly thought wrong – you were just like him, after all. your hand latched onto his and he lead you out of the crowd, through the crowded bar, and then outside to the sidewalk of broadway. he nodded his head to the bouncer and wrapped around the building that still had a line outside the door to somewhere quieter, where people would be less likely to interrupt you.

“joong, i think we could’ve stayed in front, it’s not like he cares,” you pointed out, referring to the bouncer as you finally turned the corner, pulling your box of cigarettes from your purse.

he pulled the baggie from his pocket along with his keys, splitting them until he found his apartment key that had old coke lodged into the rivets of the metal, “excuse me for not wanting to share.”

you giggled, stumbling a little bit over your feet when you tried to light the cigarette, “wanna go soon?”

he looked up to you with eyebrows raised as he brought the key up to his nose, “yeah? you ready?”

“want you already, tired of waiting,” your legs instinctively crossed, thighs pressing together as you pulled from the cigarette, the tip burning a bright orange. 

his smile returned, the devilish one that he seemed to only wear around you, “what? you don’t wanna party anymore? that’s the only reason we’re here, baby.”

your thighs flexed below your skirt at his words as he brought the key up to your nose after your exhale of smoke, smirking as you sniffed, “don’t call me baby unless you’re fucking me against the wall.”

he laughed at your body reacting to his words, something that came so naturally to him throwing you for a loop, the thought crossing his mind just for a moment that maybe he should’ve done this a lot sooner. he let you burn down half the cigarette before he was feeling the same level of impatience and you were starting to look even sexier, the rush of the bump coursing through his blood and sending all of it straight to his dick.

“let’s go say bye and then i’ll fuck you stupid at home, no bathroom this time,” he grabbed your hand again instinctively, leading you back inside the club, letting you throw the still lit cigarette to the busy street.

he found his friends quick and said bye even quicker, his pants started tightening the moment you crossed your legs and they weren’t getting any baggier as time went on. the walk back to your apartment reminded him of the subway ride from the last time, each block you walked had you pressed up on a random stoop, hongjoong’s tongue in your mouth and hand sliding farther and farther up your skirt with each stop. you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other, too needy, too impatient, a feeling you kept passing back and forth through spit and moans on brooklyn doorsteps.

you didn’t let lust take over in the entryway this time, hongjoong quickly learned this apartment wasn’t just your own but instead shared. a man’s jacket sat hung on the coat rack on the foyer, three pairs of men’s shoes shuffled about the floor. that possessiveness returned, coating a thick layer over him before he looked up. your apartment was massive, no way you were affording this on your own even in brooklyn, maybe you had two roommates. the apartment was decorated less cozy than the last time he was here, more like your band’s style, rough and dirty and dim. it didn’t smell of vanilla but instead mahogany, a hint of bourbon, so much more masculine than he’d expected. 

hongjoong’s gut twisted with the information and he pushed it down, ignored it, pretended you shared the space with a ghost instead as you lead him through the apartment and to your room quickly, pushing him against the door the second you heard the latch enter the door frame. you were on your knees in seconds, not wasting any time, only enhancing hongjoong’s need to have control as you unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans down. 

“been dreaming of having this dick again for years,” you mumbled absent mindedly as you finally got him bare, naked and leaking, eyes wide and blown not just from the coke. 

“should’ve came and got it then,” your revelation didn’t sink in, didn’t seem to click in hongjoong’s brain, too fucked up to think of anything other than fucking your throat as he finally got the wet heat of your mouth around him.

your nails clawed at the skin of his thighs as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each stroke, gagging yourself but pushing through nonetheless. hongjoong had his fingers tied in your hair, the back of his head pressed against the door, low groans leaving his lips with each tighten of your throat. 

“so fucking good, missed that mouth,” drawled out of his lips as you worked him faster, wetter, your saliva beginning to run down his thighs. he loved it messy, dirty, you were taking him in his favorite way. he was in heaven, but the impatience was only growing. he needed you loud, screaming, cumming around his dick over and over again. 

“should’ve came and got it then,” you shot back as you pulled off of him with a pop, catching your breath. tears laid in your lash line, lipstick so smudged and faded hongjoong wondered if it made a ring around the base of him.

“on the bed,” he ordered before you had the chance to take him in your mouth again and you were on your feet in a second, ripping your clothes off before you nearly jumped on the bed, greeting him with all of your limbs planted on the mattress on all fours. 

“impatient,” he mumbled as he undressed himself, crawling onto the bed behind you, leaving a rough smack against your ass.

you moaned in response as your body jerked forward, legs spreading further in response. he loved that about you, the pain slut that lived inside you even if you tried to put up a dominant front. you weren’t shy about what you wanted, what you needed from him, always so responsive. maybe you were his favorite. 

he slipped inside you with ease, you were wet enough to take him, you’d been waiting for this for hours. he set a brutal pace immediately, pounding into you leaving you a loud, crying mess. it wasn’t long before your arms gave out below you, sending your face flying into the comforter, definitely leaving streaks of black from your eye makeup. hongjoong couldn’t wait to see the mess you’d made. 

“such a perfect pussy, like it was made for me,” his voice was slurred and low, close to babbles as he spoke deliriously between thrusts, he felt fucked out too, entranced by your pussy that was sucking him in. 

“‘t was, it is, it's yours,” your voice matched his, cheek pressed to the mattress, one hand clawing behind yourself and another at the sheets to grab something, anything for leverage, “don’t stop, so good.” 

he didn’t indulge in your grabs as he felt himself getting close, he definitely wasn’t lasting as long as he wanted to, but after a small break and another line he’d be roaring to go again. he wrapped an arm around your torso, middle finger finding your clit, circling it steadily. you cried out, jerking against him, thighs starting to shake under him.

“gonna cum!” you cried out, the strain in your voice let him know the tears that were in your eyes earlier had fell. he kept at his rhythm, fucking into you at the same pace of your circles and you tightened around him, letting go, crying out with no remorse for anyone who might also be here. as you grabbed at his hand and forced it off of you he let himself focus on his own orgasm, fucking back into you at the pace he knew would have him letting go in seconds. 

“inside, joong, please,” you begged, voice rough and raspy, not giving him the chance to ask you where you wanted him. he indulged, emptying himself inside you with a groan, stilling as he leaned over the two koi fish swimming up your back. 

your legs gave out after he pulled out, falling flat against your stomach, legs still twitching against the cotton. you moaned at the emptiness, the release, and hongjoong laid himself beside you. you stayed in silence for minutes, breaths of air occupying the air, the only thing you could hear in your bedroom. you had 80s thrash metal posters all over your walls, different paintings, things he recognized from your old room. it made him smile, knowing he was back here again, a different apartment yet the things he pointed out last time were still here. two years have gone by yet some things just don’t change.

“gonna have to show me your place next time,” you finally spoke, turning your head to face him, pulling your arms under your face to rest on.

“next time?” hongjoong asked, raising an eyebrow, “what makes you so confident that there’ll be a next time?”

you rolled your eyes, “you have no choice, there’s no way in hell i’m letting you get away from me again. and you’re putting your number in my phone before you go.”

you didn’t know that he had every intention of seeing you again, of showing up whenever you called, of doing whatever the hell you wanted him to whenever you wanted him to do it. he didn’t know that those calls would come quicker than he thought, he’d take you time and time again, these visits becoming more frequent the more time you spent together. he decided the feelings he harbored didn’t need to be unpacked, he could leave them unaddressed if that meant he could see you, be with you, get himself inside you after a long day. for the months to follow he stood by that, he didn’t think much of your relationship other than the fact that you had one, unlabeled and undisclosed. 

he left your apartment the next morning slowly, much unlike last time, almost as if he didn’t want to leave. but you called him later that night, asked him if he wanted to come over, and of course he said yes, he hadn’t said no to that question yet. he found out you lived with two of your bandmates, yasu, the leader and the green haired drummer he learned was noa. they were both just as cool as you, that much he knew from the recording session you’d spent together, and hongjoong got along with them just as well as he got along with you. 

he’d spent many nights partying with you and your band after shows or on random weeknights, just as much as you spent time with hongjoong and his friends from brooklyn, or even nights with just himself and mingi. you got to know each other on a level he hadn’t expected you to, one he didn’t necessarily allow you to, including that you found out his real age, you didn’t speak to him for an entire night of drinking after he’d told you the truth. you let it go later that night when he had you pressed against the wall, outside, behind the bar you were at, fingers scissoring into you for ignoring him, denying you release for the following hours to come.

hongjoong was at all of your recording sessions, he helped with marketing your band, helped other interns and even your manager with scheduling performances, interviews, you started to bleed into every part of his life, every aspect of his job. you found out about his laziness with schoolwork, you denied him the pleasure of being inside you until he got his shit together before the semester ended, it was a long two weeks for him, his fist and his coke dealer. 

hongjoong was enamored by you, your lifestyle, your entire being. he didn’t ever think about what you were, he kept his thoughts about your relationship very surface level, terrified as to what would happen if he looked any deeper than that. he didn’t even take the time to consider whether or not you were exclusive, he didn’t let himself think about what you’d look like under someone else and how that made him feel, he didn’t need to. neither of you had any time, you were always with him, he was always with you if he wasn’t busy with the company or what was left of his junior year, you were too wrapped up in one another to think about anyone else.

somehow hongjoong was one of the last people to find out about your first tour, a quick four months across north america over the summer, ranging from june to september. he was ecstatic when he was told by his superior, he couldn’t wait to talk to you about it, the celebratory party to follow, just the fact that you were growing, making it just like he knew you would.

the label had you in a quick meeting when he found out, thirty minutes you spent inside the room with frosted glass windows, hongjoong spent his lunch break waiting just outside the door. the more time he spent tapping his foot, bouncing his knee, the more his brain started to think. you’d known about this for a month now, sitting on the information, not sharing it with him when he thought you shared everything. it became the longest thirty minutes of his life, he hadn’t felt this way in a long time, the drop of his stomach was such a rare occurrence he couldn’t remember five other times it’s ever happened to him. why hadn’t you told him sooner?

it terrified him, enough to leave his spot outside the door, to go all the way outside the building until he was greeted with the scent of summer in manhattan. he paced up and down the length of the building, racking his brain for why this was happening now, after he’d spent so much time with you, after he’d gotten completely comfortable around you, after he’d sank way too fucking deep. why hadn’t you told him sooner? it was as if his world was closing in on him, he hadn’t even felt this way when he was on the brink of consciousness before narcan was shot into his bloodstream, he’d never felt an attachment to someone let alone having it on the brink of being ripped away from him. this was betrayal.

it was only four months, but that was almost double the time you’d actually spent together. he felt himself walking on a road the past two months, a tunnel that had something unknown at the end, something totally new to him. he allowed it, he was blissfully ignoring his discomfort, the unknown, embracing this new type of relationship, this type of closeness with someone. he’d only gotten this close with mingi, only just allowed that type of friendship, he hadn’t let anyone else in since then, not even jag who he spent most of his time with other than you and mingi. he wouldn’t allow himself to bleed so freely, to show himself so naked, to give anyone else the opportunity to know him or hurt him. he kept everyone at arm's length for a reason.

hongjoong assumed this was the end of whatever was perched on his shoulder as he looked up to the clear, bright sky beyond the buildings, that was the only explanation he could muster up. he said goodbye, he thanked it for being with him all this time, for keeping a watchful eye, keeping him above the water. he wished it well.

he sniffed a bump and walked back inside the building with a distant cloud looming over him, a stoic look to his face, a carelessness that draped over him like your bedsheets in the early hours of the morning. he wouldn’t let you see him in such a state, you’d seen enough of him, more than you were ever supposed to. 

hongjoong has never believed in regret, he’s a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, everything you go through is to teach you something. from overdosing on more than one occasion, it taught him to not do someone else’s coke, to know his dealer on a personal level, to know what his drugs were cut with. from disappointing his parents time and time again, it taught him to get sneakier, not give them hopes that he could shatter. from turning in weeks worth of homework late and only just passing his last semester of his junior year, it taught him to stay on top of his studies or he could easily lose everything he’s worked for. from sleeping with the lead guitarist of a random band in brooklyn and ending up an intern at republic records, it taught him that purpose and opportunities are everywhere if you’re keeping an eye out for them. from getting into something that’s the closest thing to a romantic relationship he’d ever experienced with the woman of his dreams, it taught him that if you leave your feelings exposed, someone is able to betray them, take them in their hands and toy with them, crush them if they wanted to.

he thought himself naïve. he wouldn’t allow it to happen again. 

with a quick fifteen minutes and still not a word to you, he put his walls back up, higher than they’d ever been before, he was sina, rose and maria. he was aurelian when he walked straight past you in the lobby, hadrian when he walked past your bandmates who whipped their heads around to watch him walk to the elevator, jericho when he slipped inside the thankfully open door. he went back to the studio where jag was waiting for him, who playfully asked him if he was fucking his girlfriend in the bathroom and if that’s why he was late.

hongjoong snapped, told him to fuck off and jag listened. he didn’t ask any questions for the rest of the session, they went through the motions, got their workload finished for the day and went their separate ways. jag knew, of course jag knew, jag knew hongjoong like the back of his hand by now. since january, five months the two have been a pair, close without being close, jag is an observant man and hongjoong is not good at hiding his emotions. 

hongjoong didn’t answer your calls, didn’t answer your incessant rings of his doorbell, ignored your begs at the door of the recording studio, it didn’t take long until everything stopped. you got on that bus headed straight to florida and he couldn’t stop the slip, the easy slide of becoming the eighteen year old version of himself again. 

he turned his brain off outside of the music he made, the paintings he created, the drawings that now littered even the floor of his bedroom. the label was busy, he immersed himself in his work, he didn’t even have school to keep him occupied until august, he let every ounce of his energy go into republic records and substances. after work he was in the pits of brooklyn, seeing every show he could, in every club in the city, taking every drug he could get his hands on. his friends were happy to have him back, to have the fun hongjoong in the mix for their benders, another body to sleep with at the end of the night. 

mingi forced him out of it before school started up again, telling him to get his shit together or he’d really lose everything this time. hongjoong was malleable by now, brain so fried from his summer that he just nodded at mingi and tried to set himself up. mingi helped him, basically set hongjoong up himself, enrolled him in his senior year and chose his classes. hongjoong didn’t care, he wished he could do it himself, wished he could think for longer than two minutes without your name crossing his mind. for someone who couldn’t remember your name for the life of him, it was the only thing he could think now, it wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone. 

at this point hongjoong thought you a phantom, that night he saw you as a creature of the night would really come true — you invaded his dreams, his nightmares, his trips when he dropped acid. you were everywhere, you were everything, he didn’t know how he could ever come back from this, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. 

as he sat on the balcony of his apartment in mid august with a joint between his fingers, hours after vomiting up the oxy one of his friends had slipped him, he decided he had enough.

hongjoong is a lot of things. he’s obsessive, he’s a wild card, he’s an addict, he’s a hard worker, he’s a partier.

but first and foremost, hongjoong is a creator.

he creates art, he creates music, he writes, he draws, he paints. he recites songs from memory, he plays them on the guitar after hearing them just once, hongjoong is gifted. hongjoong created himself, he created this life, he created every path he’s ever walked on. fuck luck and fuck fate, hongjoong created every situation he’s ever been in, created every opportunity for himself, created the name that gets passed through every ear of republic records. 

hongjoong created himself, and he’d burn the world down before someone could ever take that away from him. by september he’d become a junior producer, crossing the line of intern to employee in just nine months, faster than anyone else in republic record’s history. 

he just hoped his resolve stayed intact when you finally stepped off that tour bus and walked back into republic records, ready to begin recording your band’s second album.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Julie Andrews (The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins)—Oh where to start .... I'm not sure I even know how. She's just perfection. And it's not fair I can't bring post 70s work into this, because she just gets better and better, and her drag performance in to die for. But in the era I CAN talk about, she shows she has THE RANGE. Beautiful, feisty, funny, holding her own against Christopher Plummer, Paul Newman, Rock Hudson. Oh she's luminous.

Edwige Fenech (The Seducers, Madame and Her Niece, Heads or Tails)—this might be a slightly cheeky submission but please understand that i must try given that she is the most beautiful woman in the world) Number 1 European sleaze babe! The star of many giallo movies and with a beautiful face like that, is it a surprise? Whether she's screaming in horror, making evil plots or seducing a hapless detective, I cannot avert my gaze from her striking eyes. Wonderful actress and absolute style icon <3

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Julie Andrews propaganda:

"She has such a simple but amazing beauty to her. Not to mention her amazing and melodic singing voice!"

"Roles like nannies and governesses can make us forget how attractive she was! A perfect combination of elegant and adorable, with the most incredible vocal range to boot!"

"Besides having one of the most amazing singing voices ever to grace the silver screen, Julie always had an understated beauty to her that wasn't always shown off on screen. But it's there nonetheless because her characters managed to pull some of the hottest men ever to grace the screen."

"The juxtaposition between carefree Maria and stern but fun Mary Poppins shows the power of the acting of this HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMAN"

"Charming, genteel, incredibly charismatic, beautiful, and has an angelic singing voice to boot. Her screen roles as Maria in The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins are absolutely iconic for a reason and she originated several well-known Broadway roles before those."

"the most beautiful woman 12 year old me had ever seen possibly"

"OMG OMG OMG she’s definitely been submitted before how could she NOT but!!!! I loveeee her so muchhhh rahhhh prebby!!!! cool!!!! mary poppins the beloved <33333 some people dislike it but I love jolly holiday so much because it IS a jolly holiday with Mary!!! no wonder that it’s Mary that we love!!!!!"

"I know many people who were taught in singing lessons "when in doubt, pronounce words how julie andrews would pronounce them." THATS CALLED INFLUENCE. THATS CALLED MOTHERING THOUSANDS."

[thefiery-phoenix]

HIS LITTLE HOUSEWIFE (YANDERE TAESOO MA X READER)

Not me having delusional fantasies and living in my delulu era of being a housewife for a possessive guy...my sanity is messed up and I think I need help lol. But I'm a huge sucker for wearing those pink aprons and having mittens on my hands while my imaginary non existent husband nuzzles my neck...I really need help at this point...

By no means did Taesoo ever think there would be a time when he would end up falling in love with someone so much to the point that he would literally be willing to kidnap them to ensure they become his. Had anyone ever told him that fine day would come he would have just laughed in their face and would have ended up punching the lights out of them while mumbling something about how he doesn't see the need for love. The years pass by and he'd rather take this to the grave than ever admit it for crying out loud but he felt like he needed a companion in life. A strange feeling of emptiness would settle inside his heart whenever he'd stroll through the streets of Ansan and see people happy with their families, of course, he had his own brat of a student Hudson to consider a son, but what he needed was a partner. Someone to protect and someone to love and that's when he met you

He didn't really believe in the concept of love at first sight but there was something about you that just exuded charm, grace and innocence. You were much shorter than him and he couldn't help but he slightly amused how short you were compared to him, he could literally lift you by your arms like you were a child as his imposing large muscular frame towered over yours. The way you spoke, the way you smiled that beautiful smile of yours, he could feel his heart growing warm and his cheeks getting slightly flushed. His mind would start working in an overdrive and it doesn't really take that long for him to fall in love with you. You're a precious doll in his eyes, you remind him of an innocent little thing that needed his protection. His eyes wandered to your lips, wondering how soft those lips of yours were if he'd kissed them, what sort of cute noises you would be making solely for HIM and him alone while he kisses you and holds you in his strong arms and shields you from the outside world because you're way too precious for that

It won't matter how you've met him, the only ending you'll be having is being with him. He'll obviously ask Hudson to find out more about you to which he'd agree although he cannot help but detect slight amusement in his student's voice when he gets to know about his infatuation and obsession for you but all in all, he honestly doesn't really blame him. What's not there to love about you, he can't wait to have you all for himself, hidden away from the prying eyes of the other lecherous filthy men who dare to eye what's his with no shame whatsoever far away on his mountain in his cabin where it would be just the two of you. He's already imagining how blissful married life with you would be, how adorable you'd look going around the house and taking care of him and the house with your gentle loving personality that he fell in love with. He doesn't think his feelings for you are spiraling out of control, he just sees it as a way of keeping you safe from the dangers of the world. He'd know PLENTY about it because of all the nonsense that keeps happening around Ansan everyday and the things he's been through

It's not an easy change and transition for you when you find out that he's literally kidnapped you and laced your food with sleeping pills under the pretext of having dinner with him one night. Of course, part of him definitely feels bad that he had to slip sleeping pills in your food but his obsessive love for you and possessive tendencies overlap his sense of rationality and whatever logic he had in his mind was gone out of the window as his mind is filled with thoughts of how all this is for your own good and it's to keep you safe. He knows it'll take a while for you to adjust to your new life with him but he doesn't mind, take all the time you need. He's more than willing to be patient for you and since he treats you with gentlemanly chivalry and would rather bust an artery than hurt you physically or emotionally, it won't be long till you develop the Stockholm syndrome for him

By now you've grown accustomed and used to living with him and the two of you had a small private wedding where only trusted friends of his arrived for the occasion. Of course, he had to resist the urge to literally throttle Jaegyon Na by his neck when he saw him trying to use cheesy pick up lines on you with that stupid smirk of his. Even he got used to seeing you waddle around the cabin in that cute little pink apron hugging your body busying yourself with chores like cooking or other household activities. He wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles his face into your neck and plants a few gentle loving kisses on your cheeks and lips telling you how much he loves you and holds you tightly in his possessive grasp, like he's worried you'd end up running off at any given second. It was so alluring and mesmerizing to watch you take care of the house, you were the reason he felt like his heart now had warmth. You were the reason his house was now a home with your elegant bright presence

You started getting a bit restless recently. You felt slightly guilty as you watched him come back with a somewhat tired expression at times and you felt like easing his burden and stress. A few days later, the two of you were seated at the table and having the dinner that you made. "My love...your culinary skills are amazing as always'' spoke Taesoo in a gentle tone with a soft smile on his face as he ate his food from his plate. He loved having whatever you made for him since it was made with your love and your delicate hands, what sort of husband would he be for you if he wouldn't eat his wife's cooking? You smiled but only briefly as your mind was occupied on asking him something that you were slightly apprehensive about and you had that distant and pensive look on your face, looking lost in thought. He instantly knew there was something on your mind, he could always read you like an open book and could decipher your every action and thought

"My dear, there is something on your mind...isn't there?" asked Taesoo as he surveyed your features with calculating eyes, trying to detect whether or not you'd tell him about your thoughts. His statement might have looked like it was a question but it was a formality with the hidden underlying implication for you to tell him about what was bothering you. You let out a sigh and looked at him and fiddled your thumbs nervously. "Taesoo...um...is it okay if I could get a job? Or could I resume my old job?' you asked him with a soft voice and looked at him with a hopeful expression, your heart racing in trepidation for his response, however all you were met with was a pin drop silence which filled you with a slight sense of dread. Taesoo immediately stopped eating and his smile vanished as his expression morphed into a stoic one as he looked at you with a calculated gaze. He always encouraged you to follow your hobbies and your passion but you getting a job was a slightly unexpected turn of events for him, a question he wasn't anticipating but was dreading this conversation with you early on beforehand as he rehearsed his answers for this exact moment

Looking at your soft and innocent and hopeful expression made his heart warm with affection for you but he had to be firm with you about this, as your husband, as your protector. You were his wife, he didn't want you out of your comfort zone and didn't like to entertain the thought of you being away from him for even a single second. He hated to be the one to crush that hope in your eyes but it was necessary, to keep you safe. He took your soft hand in his large rough calloused ones and traced gentle circles on the back of your hand to make it easier for you to handle his rejection of the idea you'd just proposed since the thought of other men being around you and looking at HIS wife with their lecherous gazes made him livid and the mere thought alone made him want to punch a hole into a wall

"My dear, you need not worry about getting a job and stressing yourself out about it. Your only concern is to look after the home and let me provide for you. I make enough for the both of us as it is, I don't see any reason for you to be burdened by a job'' he answered with a gentle yet firm look on his face. You pouted slightly at his response and you looked somewhat crestfallen, which he felt bad about. Your pout was adorable yet it stung his heart at the same time. "I know but...I feel somewhat useless just being at home and barely doing anything all day long, I'm not even doing anything useful and I feel bad seeing you work hard and coming back home all tired and sometimes beat up...I thought I could help out as well so you wouldn't need to worry about me being a burden for you'' you mumbled and averted your gaze from his eyes which narrowed as soon as the words left your mouth

Your words tugged at his heartstrings, yet his mind went back to the traditional role of wanting to be your protector and provider as your husband. Your words and thoughts moved him and touched him honestly, you were already precious enough and the last thing he needed was for you to bear burden on those shoulders of yours. He was slightly hurt you saw yourself a burden, he loved coming back home to you and wrapping you in his arms and feeling your soft touches and just being with you. He wished you could see how much his heart soared with affection and ecstasy whenever he'd come back home to you, making him feel like a true king indeed. However his features softened after a few moments when he saw you averting your eyes from his as he pulled you closer to him and made you sit on his lap and he cupped your cheek lovingly and caressed it and made you look at his eyes

"Hush my love, don't speak such nonsense again. You are by no means a burden for me, you are the reason my house feels like a home. Without you, this place would be an empty shell, like it used to before I met you. You mean everything to me, you are my darling wife...let me take care of you just like how you take care of me, you give me so much comfort and peace by being with me...do not fret about such things'' he answered as he continued to stroke your cheek affectionately with a tender loving look in his eyes reserved only for you, his dear wife who reigned over his heart. "I know...but I still feel like a useless housewife though, I feel like I'm barely doing anything'' you whispered with an insecure look in your eyes. Your insecure look cut through his heart like a knife, it pained him to see you be insecure of yourself and doubt yourself so much like this as he chuckled softly and brushed a few strands of hair from your face

"You do not need to worry about such things, you help me out so much with your love. I feel grateful to come back home to you everyday, where I can feel your soft gentle touches and your love for me. That's more than enough...I do not trust the world, I cannot let anything happen to you my love...society these days is dangerous and I will not risk your safety...I want you to be happy and relax, that's all. You're more than enough for me and by no means are you a useless housewife. You look so adorable with your little apron and mittens and the way you bustle around the kitchen cooking in those adorable dresses of yours...you keep the home running, my lovely little housewife...don't ever let me hear you call yourself useless again'' he replied with a soft yet firm tone and you nodded slowly which made him pleased

In the end, you were forced to give up the opinion of you having a job since there was no way he was going to stand for it but it was all for your safety after all. You were his lovely housewife, who provided him with so much love and comfort he could ever hope for and now that he had for you himself, he'd be damned to let you get away from him. Don't worry your pretty little head about anything and just let him provide for you, you're his darling little housewife after all...

[ogsherlockholmes]

I mean it with every ounce of my being when I say I adore Sherlock & Co, I love it all so much.

I love how Sherlock Holmes embraces and understands his autism, how he can't understand the social norms but is trying to, how he is hilariously witty but caring and wanting to help people. I love how John Watson wants to support Sherlock as much as he can and goes out of his way to learn how to support him, mentally and emotionally and in his cases, and how he's allowed to still be smart and intelligent and useful. I love how he talks to us and helps us understand the cases better by giving us context or his own funny interpretations, like the books. I love how Marianne accepts Sherlock's antics and the way he calls her Mrs Hudson, and that she is just as involved in the cases and gives her own thoughts and ideas. I love how the characters and the audience aren't just treated like bumbling fools who can't keep up with Sherlock and we're here to enjoy the ride and the investigation just as much as he is. I love how the cases are brought to life so we can easily trace them back to the canon but they're still individual and updated in new and exciting ways. I love all of it so much and I'm so excited every week for the new episode, it brings me so much joy.

[menlove]

in honor of pride month. how queer (or Not) do you think the bugs are. for science

here's my semi controversial takes okay take them w a grain of salt idk these men (...people?) anyway

paul: I do think he's bi. whether or not he's like out to people around him or even himself who knows but he's. 100% bi. my evidence is well. really everything w john but also just his Consistent flirting with men in so so so so so many interviews. (my joking answer is that he's a lesbian. him and linda are lesbians.)

george: also bi, mostly bc of the stuff surrounding dylan & some of his lyrics. I feel like there's a quote somewhere where he alludes to having done stuff w men but I could absolutely be making that up in my mind lmao. feel like he also could have been sold on the idea that souls are genderless and so not necessarily Be a man in the more spiritual sense. like if he were a 20-30 smth year old today. or I mean even in his actual life I just don't know but I Could See It. 0 evidence for that beyond how many transfemmes I know adore george

john: CONTROVERSIAL ONE IM SORRYYYYY. but he's definitely the one that's For Sure Queer like we all know this. & a lot of people use the bi label bc he had relationships w women & this would be the easiest answer but I'm gonna be really and totally honest... to me a lot of his/yoko's/everyone else's quotes surrounding his attraction to men vs women make it sound Very comphet driven. like his quotes about yoko being the perfect woman bc she was so much like a man/himself in drag. "you think of rock hudson when we do it". him constantly comparing yoko & paul & never really discussing cynthia and in general just disregarding her existence entirely. (which is very shitty btw his treatment of cyn makes me rage, it just also reeks of marriage out of comphet and obligation while he was actually committing himself to paul, whether that was ever fulfilled or not). his general angst around being called gay. etc. to me he reads more as a gay man that never fully came around to identifying that way. but for the sake of not speculating on a dead man's sexuality I'll just say he was Definitely Queer. also given some of his quotes surrounding identity and gender and whatnot I do think he maaay have been gender queer as well but that one is definitely more speculative and vibe based. I could see a modern john or john if he lived being more genderfluid but We'll Never Know.

ringo: token straight I'm sorry buddy. I can enjoy a good fictional depiction of him being bi (shout out to that paul/ringo fic in hamburg that made me chew glass) but as for like. real life I haven't seen a single shred of anything pointing to him being anything but cishet. maybe! but if we're solely talking what I think is Actually going on... no.

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love-Epilogue

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 19

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: Flash forward, fluff, smut, handjob, fingering, squirting, P in V intercourse, oral (f), creampie, innuendos, language, pregnancy romantic love making.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 18

Flash Forward in Time:

I wake up with a gentle bump against my side and hazily blink my eyes to allow them to adjust to the darkened room. Emma is still blissfully unconscious as her head rests against my chest and her nude body is draped against mine. I tend to get warm but this woman somehow always seems to be cold. I don’t mind one bit as I’ve spent the majority of my life sleeping alone and I sleep so much better with her body against my own. I smile at my perfect woman and gently move her disheveled hair from her face before I feel another gentle nudge against my side. Our baby boy seems to have woken up and it won’t be long until he wakes his mother up too. Luckily, she’s a heavy sleeper but I’d imagine having a human being rolling around in your abdomen could wake up most anyone. I reach down and caress her swollen belly to acknowledge my little boy and hopefully soothe him back to sleep by rubbing her tummy. Emma is almost eight months along now, and needs every bit of sleep she can get. As I touch her tummy, I think about what life will be like once our little guy finally makes his appearance. We haven’t nailed down a name for him yet, but Emma keeps admitting she likes the idea of naming him after me and calling him AJ, for Austin Junior. I’m pushing for him to have his own name and identity, certainly not wanting him to feel like he has to follow in my shadow. I like the names Luke, Hudson, Grant, and Bradley, but ultimately, I’m going to leave it up to Emma to choose her favorite. She’s doing all of the hard work after all. After a bit of gentle caressing on her belly, our son seemed to calm and Emma messily rolled over and wrapped herself around the giant pregnancy pillow that’s taking over her entire side of the bed. I won’t complain because I’ll give her anything to help her be more comfortable. I decide to ease out of the bed and get the day started because somehow in all my years I can’t shake the early wake up times that the military instilled in me. I quietly corral Mills and let him out in the backyard to use the bathroom. Aika passed away early last year and I’ll be honest, I took it hard. My nightmares started coming back more frequently and Emma convinced me to talk to my therapist at the VA about it. I still miss that sweet girl but know that she had such a fulfilling life here with us. She’s buried out in the backyard under a large oak tree so that we still feel her spirit close by. Mills also really struggled in the first month after her passing, constantly looking around the house for her. He always adored her and was used to following her lead but he’s doing well as he’s matured from the puppy stage. I spent some time training him after our wedding and now he knows all of the commands that I had taught Aika which is helpful, especially now with a growing family.

I start up the coffee pot and know I’ve only got a short window of time before responsibilities call, so I sip on a cup of coffee while I start making breakfast. As I’m plating the pancakes at the table, I hear movement upstairs and know I need to intercept quickly. I bound up the stairs and open the bedroom door to our three-and-a-half-year-old twin girl’s bedroom. Molly Grace and Maggie Kate are out of their toddler beds and already digging in their princess box regardless of the fact that it’s not even half past six on a Saturday morning. They squeal when I scoop them up and place kisses along each of their cheeks.

“Da Da! Ouch!” They giggle as my beard scratches against their cheeks. 

“Sorry little darlins” I respond before tickling their tummies. 

“Now what do we have here, already getting into the princess box?” 

“I want to be Tiana!” MG says followed by MK who declares she is going to be Ariel. “Well, if I get you girls dressed in your princess gowns, y’all gotta promise to be quiet on the way downstairs so we can let Mama sleep in. Is that a deal?” I ask.

Both curly headed girls nod their heads fervently. I’m certain that won’t last long as my daughters tend to be a bit exuberant, but I’ll take what I can get.

“Alright then, bring me the dresses and then we have to brush your teeth before your dragon breath knocks me out.” I joke. 

A somewhat endless feeling half hour later, I successfully have both girls dressed and with clean teeth. Their hair is still a disaster but I’m working on learning. God, if the old me could see myself now. Googling videos of how to braid hair or make a ponytail. Emma usually does their hair and tries to show me a thing or two when she has time. The girls have dirty blonde hair, not quite as light as Emma’s, but they both got my wild curls which Emma adores. 

I’ve got them set up with chocolate chip pancakes, fruit and milk cups as they tell me about what movie they want to watch later and constantly interrupt each other as they ask for this and that. 

“Nana and PawPaw want y’all to come over today to help Nana bake a cake. Does that sound good?” I ask knowing that the girls are over the moon anytime they get to go to my grandparents’ house. It’s hard to tell who loves it more, the girls or my grandparents. I’m grateful for a potentially quiet afternoon with Emma, since we won’t have too many of those in the future anytime soon.

“Oh yeah! I want to do that! Can we make cupcakes?” 

“That’s all up to Nana. Y’all just remember that she’s old and y’all don’t want to wear her out.”

“Yeah, Nana’s real old but PawPaw is even older. He’s like 104.” Maggie says.

“No he’s not! He’s only like 23 I think.” Molly retorts. 

“Y’all really have no idea about numbers yet and I find that adorable.” I chuckle to myself as I hear Emma making her way down the hall.

“Good morning, Sugar. Hope we didn’t wake you, I was trying to let you rest.” I kiss my girl sweetly while rubbing her swollen belly.

“Wasn’t you, your son decided to dance on my bladder.” She grumbles and I chuckle. Even all this time later, she still isn’t a morning person. She shuffles further into the kitchen and the girls jump up and give her what I’m sure are sticky syrup covered good morning hugs and kisses. I pour Em a cup of coffee, adding her creamer and she holds it with both hands with a grateful sleepy smile.

“So Ariel and Tiana, what are we talking about this morning?”

“How Nana’s old.” Molly announces and Emma almost chokes on her coffee.

“Who told you that?” Emma asks and both girls point directly to me. Little narcs.

“Well, she is! I was just telling the girls to take it easy on her today.” Emma rolls her eyes at me before walking to the table

“Don’t tell Nana that she’s old.” Emma tells the girls.

“But she is old, mama.” Maggie refutes.

“Yes, but it’s still not nice to say. We don’t want to hurt Nana’s feelings.”

“Does Nana not know that she’s old?” Molly asks inquisitively.

“I’m sure she does baby, but spending time with you girls helps her feel young. Now, how about you girls work on making Nana and PawPaw some more drawings for their refrigerator? You know how much they love those!” Emma directs.

“I want to draw Mills chasing chickens!” Molly shouts.

“I’m going to draw PawPaw riding a cow!” Maggie exclaims.

I chuckle as I watch them scurry over to the little kiddie table off of the kitchen that Emma has made as their art station and get to work.

Emma has shifted to working part time and it’s been great. She stayed home with the girls at first, taking an extended maternity leave after they were born but found that she missed the vet clinic and working with animals. We decided on sending the girls to a “Mother’s Day Out” program where they attend half days so that Emma and I can both work. Our jobs give us the flexibility to be able for one of us to pick them up at 1pm each day and have them home in time for an afternoon nap.

Emma relaxes back at her chair at the table and starts eating some breakfast.

“Little man let you get decent rest last night?” I ask her and she shrugs while chewing her food.

“I felt like I got up more times to pee or roll over than I actually got rest, but I suppose that’s just going to prepare me for the newborn stage of having him up every two hours.”

“Hell, just think about how much easier it’ll be with only one baby this time.” I think back to how exhausted Em and I both were in the first few months home with the girls. We struggled to get them on the same feeding and sleeping schedules. It felt like as soon as we got one to sleep, the other was screaming and waking everyone up. Em and I were so tired we basically just roamed about the house like zombies during the night. I feel like I coped a little bit better than Emma since I was used to insomnia, but she was determined to breastfeed and didn’t want to mess up her supply. After a few months, I finally convinced her to pump some milk for night feeds so I could help more with a bottle feed during the night and let her rest. 

“Gosh, I hope so. They were worth it all, but damn I hope this baby sleeps.” Emma sighs.

“Given any more thoughts on what you’d like to name this handsome fella?” I ask. 

“I still like AJ, but I’ve been thinking about it and I also really like the name Grant ever since you brought it up. Grant Syverson just sounds like a future star quarterback.” She says and I smirk as I munch on a few berries.

“I like that a lot, Sugar. It’s a very strong name. One he can be proud of. Perfect for our boy.” 

“I was thinking the middle name could be Joseph after PawPaw?” She suggests and I have to take a moment to just awe at this woman. PawPaw was always a taciturn man with a steely exterior but when Emma became part of the family he opened up to her more than I ever imagined. Always imparting words of advice and stopping by to check on her when she was pregnant with the girls and I was working. Nothing could have prepared us for the absolute mush that man turned into when the girls were born. PawPaw seemed to get a new lease on life as he dropped everything to spend time with his “grandbabies”. He wanted to teach them all about the farm and loved showing them all the animals. He was wrapped around their fingers and we all joked about it. 

“I don’t think anything could make him prouder. I love that idea, baby girl.”

“Let’s wait until he’s born before we tell him.” She suggests and I agree.

“Walt doing okay now that he’s back at work?” Emma asks.

“He’s having a hard time focusing, which is understandable. He’s itching to get home every night to Cassie and baby Carter.”

“Yeah, Cass mentioned he’s got terrible FOMO when I was over there last week. He’s afraid he’s going to miss something.” Emma responds.

Walt and Cassie really hit it off at the wedding and before long were in a serious relationship. She moved to Texas with him about eight months into dating. They got married a little over a year ago and just had a little boy, Carter, who made Walt light up in a way he hasn’t since Faye was little. Emma loved having Cassie close and it was nice having Walter so happy and working more reasonable hours. Faye came to visit as often as she could which was also good for Walt. They only lived about ten minutes from us and Emma had been over every day last week to help Cassie since Walt was on his first week back to work from paternity leave. I remember how hard it was to leave Emma and the girls to go back to work.

“It’s tough to leave your wife and new baby and go back to work but I’m sure he’ll adjust. I remember facetiming you like every hour that first week just to check in.” I reminisce.

“I remember.” Emma giggles. “My big strong army man was a nervous wreck about missing any moment with his girls. It took some time but I think we found a good family/work balance that keeps us fulfilled.” 

“I keep you filled.” I mutter with a smirk.

“Austin!” Emma feigns shock. “Clearly you have.” She murmurs as she pats her round belly and I look at her with smug pride. 

“Think Nana and PawPaw would keep the girls for a night?” She wonders aloud even though we both know that they jump at the chance to keep the kids.

“You know they would. Got something in mind?”

“An impromptu night alone with my handsome man sounds pretty perfect to me.” Emma bites her lip and I feel the surge run through my body as I quickly grab my phone to call Nana and confirm that the girls can sleepover with them tonight. Emma heads upstairs to pack the girls an overnight bag and before we know it, we’re loading them up in the truck and headed to Nana and PawPaw’s.

After a lively drop-off and quick visit with Nana and PawPaw, Emma and I were back in the truck and driving out of their long driveway. 

“I feel like we’re teenagers who just got permission to go out for the night.” Emma joked. 

“That mean I get to cop a feel? I ask as I pull Emma closer to me and run my big hand across her exposed thigh gently dragging her sundress higher.

“Thanks to these pregnancy hormones, you’ll be feeling more than that.” Emma smirks and I groan. Our sex life has always been incredible, but having two toddlers that seemingly always want something, and a very heavily pregnant wife who struggled with morning sickness longer than expected made us slow down a bit. Emma finally got to feeling better and the hormones lately had been keeping her extra needy which I was more than happy to accommodate. 

“Lunch date at Gia’s?” I asked and she nodded enthusiastically. Baby boy had Emma craving pasta all the time so I knew she’d be excited. 

After eating a nice meal, we made our way home and smiled at the rarity of quietness inside our home. Even Mill’s seemed excited about staying with my grandparents for a night of chicken chasing and homemade treats from Nana. The house was all to ourselves and I was ready to get Emma naked and spend the rest of the day in the bed.

I reached for Emma and pulled her into a kiss. 

“I love you, beautiful darlin’.” I told her between kisses. Her swollen tummy had me leaning a little further than I usually do for these types of kisses, and I couldn’t help but lean down and place a soft kiss on her belly too. 

“I love you too, baby.” She replied as she pawed at my abs in an attempt to take off my shirt.

I pulled my shirt over my head and Emma’s nails immediately sunk into my chest hair as she gently scratched up and down my torso.

“Let’s get to our bedroom so I can properly get you naked, Sugar.”

I led her upstairs to our bedroom and took my time undressing her slowly before laying her down on the bed. She has been feeling a bit self-conscious lately as her body stretches and swells to accommodate our growing son, but I do my best to reassure her.

“You’re so pretty, Darlin’. Every bit about you is perfect.”

“Sy, I’m huge. Be truthful.” She sasses.

“No, you’re pregnant and growing my kid. That I put into you. Something about that turns me on even more. Plus, your tits are huge and I can’t wait to sneak a taste of them when your milk comes in again.” I smirk at her devilishly.

“Austin, you are downright depraved.” She giggles as my hands paw all over her body.

“Only for you, Sugar. Now, let me finally make love to my bride without any interruptions.” I say as I plant kisses along her collar bone, sliding down to her belly and then the juncture of her thighs where her perfect pussy is already glistening in anticipation. I rub my calloused hands along her thighs and spread her open for me as I lick a long stripe up her folds. Emma is extra sensitive lately and jumps at the sensation with a loud moan before her hands find the short strands of my hair and grab on. I lick, kiss, and suck on her delicate pearl before sliding two fingers gently inside her and curling them. A few minutes after I began my ministrations, Emma screams her release as she squirts and her fluids coat my chin and forearm. I drink down everything she gives me so I don’t waste a single drop of her honey. I begin to place gentle kisses on her thighs as I work her through her high before I kiss up her body to check on her. I’m greedily tempted to work her to another orgasm, but know that she’s extra sensitive right now and it might be too much for her. I make my way up to her neck and place soft kisses under her ear as she reaches and grabs on to the scruff of my beard.

“Fuck, Austin. That was amazing.” She mewls with her eyes still closed as I place gentle kisses on her eyelids.

“Yeah? Feel good, Sugar?” I ask as she catches her breath.

“The best. Now I need your cock.” Emma almost whispers as her fingertips trail down my abs before wrapping around my raging erection. She squeezes just like I like before running her thumb across my slit to collect the bead of precum that’s already dribbling out in anticipation and I thrust myself further into her grasp with a groan. I watch as Emma removes her hand, spits into her palm before grabbing me again and jerking me. Between deep kisses, I glance down at her delicate little hand working my large member and can’t help but thrust against her. If she keeps going, I’m going to blow my load before I even get inside her warm cunt.

“Darlin’, I need to be inside you.” 

“Fuck me, Austin. Please baby.” I grunt as I manhandle her onto her side, conscious that this may be the best position to keep any pressure off of her growing womb and slide up behind her before lifting her thigh around me. I gently ease the tip of my cock into her warm channel and Emma pushes down against me, sucking my cock inside her wet heat in the best way. When my pelvis is fully seated against her ass cheeks, I groan and Emma arches her back which gives me the perfect angle to her g-spot. I start thrusting slowly as I suck and lick against the spot under Emma’s ear and she wraps an arm around my neck thrusting her fingers into my hair and tugging. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet and tight. Just like the first time I ever fucked you, baby girl.” I grunt against her neck.

“Mmm, Austin! You feel so good inside me. So big and full.” She mumbles as I thrust into her.

“God, we fit together so good. You were made to be mine.” I murmur as I appreciate the tight, wet heat surrounding me.

“Harder, baby.” She moans and I’m so tempted to start jack hammering into her perfect cunt but am worried about hurting her more than my desire to fuck hard.

“I don’t want to hurt you or the baby, Sugar.”  “You won’t, I promise. Fuck me please!” She moans and I can’t help but pound into her a bit harder as she claws down my arm that’s holding across her perfect tits. I have the perfect view to watch them bounce over her shoulder as I fuck her from behind and can’t help but start gently tugging at her nipples which earns me a louder moan from her.

I remove my arm from her breasts before I shove two of my fingers in her mouth. She sucks fervently before I reach down past her tummy and start rubbing them against her swollen clit. She’s so easily stimulated that I have her cumming in a matter of moments. Her tight pussy clenched me so hard that I couldn’t hold back my own orgasm and found myself releasing deep inside her before I had intended too. I stilled my hips and shoved my cock as deep as I possibly could as I finished before collapsing back down onto the sheets, not caring how sweaty we were. Emma and I laid perfectly still basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking as the ceiling fan whirled above us before I slid my softening cock from her body and she whined at the loss.

Emma clumsily rolled over to face me and laid her head against my chest, her fingers combing through my chest hair as my fingertips trailed up against her spine.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked her as we basked in the silence.

“I’m thinking that I want you to fuck me like that again before the night is over… and I want to take a bath with you… and I might also be thinking about the chocolate chip cookie dough in the refrigerator.” Emma replied as I croaked out a hearty laugh at how her thoughts were all over the place.

“Why, what are you thinking?” She asked.

“I was honestly just thinking about how grateful I am for you. I never thought I could have any of this. I was just this broken, shell of a person who went through the motions of everyday life. I swear, I never really thought I’d find love like my grandparents and then I met you. I’ve always been so independent and now, I swear to God, I can’t imagine being away from you for a single day. You completely changed me for the better and gave me so much love and passion. It’s like you woke me up and I started finally living life. Oh, and not to mention our babies. God, I love them so much even when they are being little brats. You and our kids just complete me. I can’t wait to see how our son joins in the mix with our baby girls. I’m just so glad I found you. I’ve never been this happy in my life.” I tell her honestly as I think about how my life has changed in just the past 5 years before I hear her sniffle.

“Sugar?”

“Now I feel like an ass for thinking about eating cookie dough when you were making this big declaration of love.” She sobs as the tears flow down her cheeks and I can’t help but laugh out loud.

“It’s not funny, Austin! That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard and you know I feel the same way.” She laugh/cries as I bite my lip to keep from chuckling at the absurdity of her pregnancy hormones. She looks up at me with tears still in her eyes and can’t help but start laughing herself. I finally allow my laughter out and we spend the next few minutes laughing so hard that Emma has to get up and waddle to the bathroom to pee which just makes me laugh even harder.

I head to the bathroom after her and start filling the bathtub and lighting candles before helping Emma step in. I make a quick run downstairs to the kitchen and get us some waters and the entire roll of cookie dough with a spoon before I head back up and present the princess with her snack. 

Her eyes fill with tears of gratefulness that her beloved craving is about to be satisfied which has us laughing all over again as I join her in the tub to what we jokingly still call marinating in our ‘body juice soup.’

Emma rests her back against my chest as she feeds me bites of her dessert and I can’t help but feel more fulfilled than I ever have before. My future now is not some bleak possibility, but filled with excitement and joy. I owe it all to a bit of puppy love that became the love of my life.

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar, @wetzilly, @ashbrat488

A/N: Y'all, it's finally here! I'm so so sorry that it took me so long to get this written and posted but #lifehappened and I'm a bit of a perfectionist so I wanted it to be right. Thank you all so much for following along on Sy and Emma's love story. Your support and encouragement has lifted me up more than you realize. I'm so grateful to everyone that's followed along! I'm super sad that it's over but there may be a one-shot or two in our future for them! Love you all!

[ilybeam]

“Tat my name on you so I know it’s real”

—

You jokingly tell him to tattoo your name so you know he’s serious about your relationship.

—

Various x Gn!reader

Gun Park, Dg/James Lee, Hudson Ahn, Samuel Seo, Vasco, and Jake Kim

—

Content Warnings - Established relationship, unintentionally manipulative reader?

A/n - Didn’t add all my favorite characters so if people enjoy this I might make a part two.

—

Doesn’t tat it

Gun park -

- Definitely scoffed at you when you said that.

- I mean are you crazy? His body is a temple, of course he’s not going to go through with something that he could potentially regret in the future.

- Told you to get his name first and then he’d think about it. Was not serious about that proposition when he said it.

- Has semi realistic expectations of romantic relationships.

- Scolded you even after you said it was a joke.

“All jokes have some truth to them, [name].” He chided

“God you sound like my mother.” You bit back.”

—

Dg/James Lee-

- Looked at you like you had three eyes.

- He’s an idol, his image is everything. A tacky tattoo of his lovers name would not slide.

- Doesn’t even matter if he thinks y’all would last forever, a tattoo is just too much.

- Would try to compromise by buying a chain with your name on it.

—

Didn’t agree to it, but definitely thought about it

Hudson Ahn-

- The man reeks of commitment what can I say.

- His devotion to relying on his right hand is a testament to that.

- But even with all things considered a tattoo of your name is a bit much.

- Definitely thinks it’s a bit tacky as well.

- Not to mention, your significant others name as a first tattoo is a lot.

- All things considered, you should be thankful he even thought about.

—

Samuel Seo -

- Laughed at you when you said it.

- But even so, it definitely took him a minute to think about it.

- I mean his whole body is tatted up, how’s one more going to make a difference.

- Would also be very easy to cover up or incorporate in the design of his whole body’s

- But a king with his significant others name tattooed on his body, I’m not sure if that’s a great idea.

- Told you he’d tattoo your name, if you tattooed his.

- But unlike gun he wasn’t joking.

“Okay I’ll do it-“ he smirked, he’s definitely up to something.

“Wait really?” you interrupted, not actually thinking he’d agree.

“But only if you tattoo mine aswell”

—

Agreed to tattoo your name, no regrets.

Vasco-

- Didn’t think of the nuances of tattooing your name.

- I mean look at him, what’s one more tattoo.

- Not much more to be said.

“Vasco?” You called out, gaining his attention.

You both sat in the park whilst Vasco was in between sets.

“Hmm?” He replied, slowly catching his breath after completing his ridiculous workout regimen.

“You should get my name tattooed” you tried to hide the smile forming on your face.

“Huh, get your name tattooed, why?” His whole attention was on on you now, he was genuinely confused.

“So I know it’s real” it was really hard to contain your laugh now.

His face fell some more, even more confused than before. An adorable display of his emotions.

“Let me rephrase that, so I know you’re serious about me .” You pouted as those last words came out of your mouth, attempting to add sincerity to your words. You knew Vasco was serious about you, from your first, albeit, disastrous date.

“Okay” he smiled as his reply came out, full of real sincerity.

“Okay?” Now you felt bad, you didn’t think he’d actually agree.

“Mhm, I’m real serious. I’ll have to set an appointment for it then. Sorry if it takes too long, my artist might not have any availability.” With those words he turned back to his set, ready to complete the rest of his push-ups.

Okay, now you felt really bad. His face when he said that made you take pause when telling him it was a joke. You forget how sincere your boyfriend really is. One to always wear his heart on his sleeve.

“No, no Vasco. I was joking. Don’t get my name tattooed please.”

—

Jake Kim-

- What can I say, he’s as committed as they come.

- Would only get into a relationship if he’s completely sure he wants to stay with you forever.

- A tattoo is for ever and so is your love.

- Would hope you’d get his name tattooed aswell, but wouldn’t force it. Especially if you don’t have any other tattoos.

- Definitely pouted when you said it was a joke.

- Told you he was going to get it done anyways now that you put the Idea into his head.

—

m.list

A/n - got a bit carried away with Vasco’s one, I’m not sure how it happened but I wanted to add a bit of a Drabble since his was so short and it turned into that. Hope y’all enjoy anyways.

[mysterycitrus]

just saw ur yj post and i have so many thoughts on it!! i always think that after bruce comes back, dick should’ve gone back to new york like that man cannot coexist with bruce wayne in gotham and i hate new 52 for bringing back bludhaven because i love the idea of a bludhaven that was used as a base for world ending events like final crisis and it’s just a shitshow- like this was dick’s city and he gave so much of himself to it but it’s just a radioactive wasteland now. and i don’t think dick could’ve/should’ve gone back. and to be honest i think dick should’ve dragged tim with him because as much as i adore the idea of tim with yj in sf i think of yj and titans as very different in terms of their sidekick experiences- like yj was more of the latchkey generation despite the attempts to oversee them from introducing authority figures in the form of red tornado their parents etc- and i just think at that point dick might be able to see his brother’s suicidal ideation and see the ways in which tim thinks he’s expendable except to the mission and he grabs his brother and tells him ok time for u to go college and rmb what it’s like to be an actual person outside of ur isolationist red robin business!!!

describing them as latchkey kids is very accurate! it’s what makes them such an interesting point of comparison as the next generation after the original titans who really had to advocate for their independence. i also agree that bludhaven should stay a crater — it was so important to dicks development as a character and for the universe as a whole!

i kinda oscillate back and forth between tim being in san francisco and new york, but i do think that in the short term he should be out of gotham and away from bruce. partially because it’ll help his relationships with damian and steph but also because like u said — dick grayson would look at how tim is actively transforming himself into bruce and hating himself for doing it and be like ok…. we’ve gotta enrol u in some arts courses to get ur head back on straight.

maybe he spends a year on the west coast then moves back to study at hudson, idk. there’s this period ive found as ive entered adulthood where u rediscover all ur friends? like they’re the same but not. u have to relearn about urself and them, and i think cassie and tim having the connection of knowing what the world is like when kon and bart have died, and kon and bart fundamentally not understanding what that was like would inspire serious character growth. idk. the idea of growing up is scary when u die as a teenager. it’s hard to care about urself when you’ve already met ur end, yknow?

[roe-and-memory]

for a little while after he comes to radiator springs, lightning definitely is in a constant state of fight or flight (mostly flight)

it comes with the trauma of being neglected and rejected repeatedly, hes terrified the the town will do the same thing to him that his parents did — or they’ll be just like the people he wanted to desperately to be friends with — so on, and so forth.

it also comes with the unmasking process — getting insanely overstimulated insanely quickly because being tied down feels Crowding . and having this many people care about you, to the point it ends in almost constant conversation with someone, can start to feel suffocating. and the fact he cant prepare himself for the day anymore because its such an out of wack routine doesnt help one bit.

so, he needs an escape.

its dumb, kind of, and sometimes his little adventures around the desert suffice enough, but it starts becoming more of an issue and he starts needing somewhere repetitive to go.

the cow fields just on the county line, the gravel road that leads to a deserted farmhouse, its age showing in each plank of wood that hangs off its nails, rotting from the rain and weather, grains of sand embed in each crack — lightning finds comfort in one of those empty fields.

first, its leaving to go sit in the long grass, pulling little bits and pieces of it out of the dirt and taking interest in how, somehow, after years of abandonment, it seems to thrive - how the cows keep living, being fed occasionally by mater, but for the most part just surviving off of the grass in their pen. he wonders why they stay. - he would find himself watching the sun disappear behind the mountains and cliffs of cadillac range, taking deep breaths, basking in the sound of the wind whistling and crickets chirping.

when his fears start getting worse, he steals one of the plastic lawn chairs out of docs shed and leaves it out there, sometimes stealing a beer out of the fridge despite how much he hates them. he rarely drinks them anyways, maybe a few sips or so for enough of a buzz to get rid of the anxiety in his bones, but otherwise he always gets home with a bottle still half full, going to waste down the drain.

doc never worries about this. its a part of the process of teaching someone that Some People in the world arent out to get them — sometimes people genuinely mean it with their care — so he can understand that these mini getaways are just his kid taking time to calm down, rationalize, and figure stuff out.

as the months pass, he becomes less terrified, he doesnt need to really disappear anymore, he starts taking sally out there with him. he lays a blanket in the grass and they stare at the sky together in silence.

the longer he stays out there in that field, the more he realizes hes here to stay. he doesnt need to come out here to calm down, instead he can sit in his bedroom and breathe.

eventually, that plastic lawn chair is deserted in that field, the smooth, white surface becoming scratchy and dirty with rain and wind. no one goes out to clean it, because no one needs it anymore.

[marvelobsessed134]

Halloween party shenanigans

Pairings: Early 2000s!Tommy Lee x Fem!reader

Warnings: drinking, drunk reader and her shenanigans,Tommy punches a guy for hitting on you cause I think it’s hot, age gap, reader has an Elvis obsession because yes.

Summary: you go to a Halloween party with your boyfriend

You’re dressed as none other than Priscilla Presley this year because your obsession with Elvis is ever growing and your love for his wife was growing too. You love her hair especially. So you have a black wig with the giant beehive. You’re wearing a shorter version of her wedding dress with a veil on top of your head. Her iconic makeup adorning your face.

You walked down the tile stairs to the foyer where your boyfriend was waiting. He was dressed as spiderman, ever the kid at heart. Especially after the new Spider-Man movie with Tobey Maguire came out.

The drummer heard your heels clacking and looked up to see you walking gracefully down the stairs. “Holy fuck, babe. You look beautiful.” Tommy had nothing but love and adoration in his eyes.

You giggled, “Thank you. You don’t look to bad yourself.”

“Yeah well, I definitely don’t look as sexy as you holy shit.” He held his arms open for you and you walked into them after reaching the floor, the two of you in an embrace.

The moment was interrupted by his cellphone buzzing. “Ugh, it’s probably Nikki saying ‘where the fuck are you?’ He can’t stop being an asshole outside of work. So fucking glad I left motley.”

“Oh but you love him.” You gave him a teasing smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before he personally shows up to our house.”

The two of you made it to the party which was being hosted at none other than Saul Hudson’s house or as most people know him, Slash.

You’re pretty good friends with him since you produced a couple of his songs. Yep, you’re a music producer and damn good one at that.

Making your way through the crowd you greeted the man himself, who was dressed as a vampire but still adorned his iconic top hat.

“Slash!” You cheered with open arms. The two of you had a brief hug because someone is a little territorial. You love him for that though.

“Y/n!” He exclaimed back with a wide smile before exchanging a brotherly handshake with Tommy. “You make a great Priscilla.” Slash commented.

“Thanks. See I wanted this one to go as Elvis but as soon as he saw Spider-Man he was dead set on his costume.” You pointed you thumb to the drummer.

“Hey, in my defense it was much easier to get a Spider-Man costume than an Elvis costume.” You playfully rolled your eyes at that, “Whatever. Come on let’s go find everyone else.”

When the two of you spotted nikki who was comedically dressed as Michael Meyers, freaking you out just a little bit until he took the mask off when he realized it was making you feel uneasy.

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to scare you.” The bassist apologized and you smiled with a shake of your head. “It’s fine, I’m just a not a slasher person.”

The terror twins continued to have a conversation when you were distracted by one of your friends, Holly Madison. You quickly told Tommy you’d be right back as you rushed over to her.

She was dressed as tinker bell looking beautiful as always. “Holly!!” You exclaimed and her face lit up when she saw you. The two of you hugged tightly before letting go. “Oh my god you look beautiful.” The two of you said at the same time looking at each other’s outfits.

“Ok I’ve been waiting for you to show up so we can get drunk!” The blonde cheered and you laughed with a nod.

Four drinks later you were already drunk. Dancing on the counter top, Tommy watching you carefully to make sure you didn’t get hurt. When you got down with the help of some random guy who you didn’t know would cause you trouble in just a few moments, you tripped and almost fell when you were caught by him.

“Whoa, careful babe.” He chuckled and you immediately pulled his hand off of you. “Thanks for helping me.” You said.

He waved you off, “It was no problem. Hey, you’re that music producer. You produced for my band once.” You don’t even know this guy. “I did?”

“Yeah. Always thought you were pretty. You wanna go out someti-“ he was cut off by a punch being thrown at him, knocking him to the floor. Your boyfriend stood over him, anger in his eyes.

“Stay the fuck away from my woman. Got that?”

The man nodded and hissed in pain.

“Oh my god Tommy! You can’t totally do that!” You we’re slurring your words and he knew you were very drunk. “Come on, let’s get you home.” The brunette whispered.

“Noooo I wanna stay right here.” You made a show of stomping your foot on the ground with your arms crossed. Tommy wrapped an arm around your waist, “No, you’ve had enough partying tonight. Cmon baby.” And with a huff, you let him take you home.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Answer The Phone (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Mycroft X Daughter!Reader, Sherlock X Niece!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: mentions of being drugged via gas (fun story, this happened to me once lol), bomb, explosion, burns, unhealthy relationship with parent

Request: Hello could you do mycroft x daughter reader. Final problem the two have really broken father and daughter relationship and they haven't express themselves and because of it sherlock is kinda the father figure of the reader. So instead of Sherlock doing the phonecall its the mycroft who did the phonecall and reader almost said 'I love you ' to mycroft but its time up and mycrift witness the explosion in reader apartment and the Holmes are broken as they heard the shrill scream coming from the reader. Its up to you if you wanna turn out to let reader died. 😊

It had been a long time since you had actually gotten along with your dad. A long time since tensions weren’t running high when in his presence, well aware that things were one thoughtless comment away from a bicker or an argument. Whether it was wanting something from one another- more affection from him, or a more agreeable personality from you- or just not agreeing on things in general. He often commented on how you were more like your uncle Sherlock, even when you were young. Back then you took it as a compliment, seeing your uncle as a genius who adored you and was by far the funnest uncle in the world, but in your pre-teens you realised he meant it as an insult.

You could never forgive him for doing that, even if he didn’t mean it, or didn’t even realise what he was saying. Everytime he said it, it made you pull away from him even more. Spend more time with the man he compared you to, the only person who seemed to actually care about you. Of course, that was until you met Mrs Hudson and then John moved in with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson kept you company when your uncle was busy and you were avoiding your dad, and she’d softly poke into your home life and your relationship with your dad and try and give advice. John thought you were Sherlock’s assistant for a short while before Sherlock corrected him, acting insulted that he thought you were ‘just an assistant’. When he met Mycroft, he immediately began to understand why you weren’t close, and tried to be a responsible adult you could turn to. In the end, when you became a legal adult, you moved to an apartment much, much closer to Sherlock than your dad, and never in the 3 years you’d had it, had your dad stepped foot inside of it. He wasn’t allowed to. 

You had a lot of feelings towards your dad from childhood to now. Anger, resentment, distrust. A disconnect you never thought and come to accept could ever be fixed. Whenever you needed support, you went to Sherlock. John. Mrs Hudson. Never him. But this time was different. 

You were currently trapped in the said apartment. The one place you were supposed to feel safe no matter what, yet here you were, eyes focussed on the bomb that had been planted in the middle of your living room, the heart of your apartment, with several wires linking to it all across the apartment like spiderwebs. Linked to every possible escape route- the windows, the fire escape, and the only door in and out. You didn’t remember what had happened- you vaguely remember an odd smell as you wet to sleep last night, and when you awoke, you found yourself laying on the floor of your living room, and sitting up and seeing the device. Whoever had done this, had been nice enough to leave your phone right beside the bomb. You didn’t call anyone or even turn the phone on for several hours, scared that it had been tampered with as well and that was also a trigger, but you grew desperate. The first person you tried to call was your dad. You didn’t get through, so then you called Sherlock, and he picked up almost immediately, and you told him what was going on. 

That was about two hours ago now. The police cars littered the streets outside, the complex and surrounding buildings completely evacuated. It was just you and this bomb within a 50 foot radius. Well, for a period of time, both Sherlock and John were on the other side of the door, asking you a billion and one questions about what you could see, and you described everything to the best of your abilities, and it was useful. One, Sherlock was able to piece together it was well made, and whoever made this was an expert and had experience with this- probably a military man, working in a bomb squad or something, and that this was purely explosive, no nails or anything to cause more damage, and due the size, the blast wouldn’t go far past the walls of your home. However, after demanding his honesty, he admitted he also had no clue how to diffuse it, or if that was even possible. It seemed too fragile, that even a light breeze could set it off. That solidified your decision to remain perfectly still within two of the wires attached to your windows, too scared to even touch the glass or move to quickly, remembering his comment on a breeze, and didn’t want to risk vibration. 

You still hadn’t been able to reach your dad. 

“John?” You had asked over the phone. The phone was often being in call between people, mostly Sherlock and John, though Mrs Hudson had called when neither were available to try and keep you calm. It was John’s turn as Sherlock was following leads. 

“Yeah? Is something happening?” John asked. 

“No it’s just… I can’t reach my dad. I keep trying to call him but he won’t pick up… I… I just want to hear his voice.” You admitted. It sounded ridiculous, childish, but you were tired, hungry, and the adrenaline had drained your energy a while ago now. “Does he know what’s happening?” You asked. He was silent on his side for a minute. 

“I don’t know, but I tell you what, I’m going to personally find him, and drag him here, and make him answer his phone, okay?” He promised, and you could hear the anger oozing over the phone, which you couldn’t help but smile at. “In the meantime, I think Sherlock is going to call you later, I think he’s onto something. Hang on, alright?” He said, before handing up. You placed the phone on the floor, carefully standing up, and with distance between yourself and the window, you peered out of it, able to see John as he dashed off towards Lestrade, telling him something, before the pair got into a car and took off presumably to go and find your dad. Looking around more, you spotted Mrs Hudson peering up. She waved when she saw you, and you waved back. With nothing else to do, you sat back down in front of the bomb, trying to examine it to the best of your ability, seeing nothing of importance, before you laid down on the floor, closing your eyes, and waiting.

You flinched when your phone rang. You flinched every time it rang, even if someone had told you just a minute prior it was coming. You reached over, picking it up and placing it to your ear, remembering what John had said. “Sherlock?” You asked. 

“How many pieces of furniture in your flat can you crawl under?” His question was far from reassuring, as you bolted up, on high alert. 

“U-Um, I don’t know, why? Do I need to hide? Take cover? What’s going on?” You panicked. 

“The wiring to the bomb is far too fragile for someone to be able to rig it from the outside after escaping. They must have either found or made another way inside, somewhere where you wouldn’t have noticed. If we can find it you can get out yourself, or we can get inside. Think. Lay on the floor and look around for anything, furniture that you can get under, or furniture light enough but large enough to cover an escape but be able to move from below. Be. Careful. Watch the wires. Call me back if you find anything, I’m on my way back.” He said before hanging up, leaving you alone with silence and overwhelming pressure. You looked at the wires around you, before trying to think of the best places for someone to hide a hatch- under the coffee table, the recliner that you knew was easy to move, your wardrobe in your room which had some crawl space underneath, and for you, the most creepy- under your bed. You quickly checked under your coffee table in front of you, of course finding nothing, because of course that would be too easy. Your recliner was across from you, so after a deep breath, you got down on the ground, and carefully crawled under the wires, spotting a wire that was too low to crawl under, and you stood and carefully stepped over it. You then carefully moved your recliner, checking underneath, and found nothing. That left your bedroom. 

Your phone rang again, and your cursed yourself, realising you left it beside the table, and you hurriedly but carefully moved back, grabbing it and answering it. “Hello? Sherlock?” 

“Y/N?” Your dad’s voice caught you off guard, and you gasped in surprised. “What’s going on? John told me to call you and said it was dire.” He asked. A relief came over you just from hearing his voice, your eyes burning as you sniffed. 

“Dad… it’s bad.” You started, getting silence on the phone. “There’s… someone put some sort of sedative gas into my flat when I went to bed and broke in- they moved me into the living room and- there’s a bomb. There’s a bomb in the living room and it’s wired up to every escape and I can’t get out and I’m scared and I don’t want to die-” You rambled to him before you heard him finally repeating your name to try and interrupt you. 

“Y/N, Y/N, breathe. Is Sherlock working on it?” He asked, that last sentence sound a little distance, and you faintly heard John confirm in the background, before he returned to the phone. “Alright. Sherlock’s working on it. What has he told you?” 

“He um… He said that he thinks there’s a secret entrance somewhere- and that’s how the person who did this escaped after rigging everything. He told me to look for it- I’m going to check in my bedroom next.” You explained to him, looking over, being relieved when you saw no wire attached to the door. 

“Is that door rigged?” 

“No. Hold on, I have to crawl under the wires.” You explained, getting back down, crawling under the wires, before reaching it the door, and holding the phone to your ear. “Okay, I’m at the door.”

“Do you feel like a secret agent?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“What?” You asked, pausing in your plan. 

“Crawling under and over the wires. It’s like the laser lights and those agents avoiding them. You used to love those movies when you were little. You thought that was what Sherlock did in his cases.” He reminisced. A faint smile met your lips. You’d totally forgotten about that. 

“Yeah… I remember one time when I pulled out all the red thread from a jumper you had gotten me, pinning it all over the house so I could pretend to be a secret agent and then using it to make an information board… you were so mad when you came back home because the jumper was some expensive brand and I’d made the board on a wall and wrote on it and everything… sorry about that.” You told him, somehow finding the energy to chuckle pathetically. 

“Don’t apologise.” Mycroft told you. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were 6, you were just being a child.” He pointed out. “I’m… I’m also sorry that I didn’t answer your calls. I should have known something was wrong when you kept trying to reach me.” He apologised. You hummed, before you realised something. 

“This is the first time we’ve been able to actually talk without bickering or arguing in years.” You pointed out. You heard him sigh. 

“When this whole mess is over, I promise you we’re going to have a proper family dinner, catch up, and actually talk. No bickering. No arguing. A genuine conversation. How does that sound?” He asked. You smiled to yourself. This was the best thing that had happened all day, not like that was hard. 

“Yeah. Let’s hope the escape is in my room.” You said, remembering your task. You reached out, grabbing the handle of your bedroom door, and opening it, and pulling the door open. “Hey, you know, despite not really getting along my whole life, I want you to know that I do love-” You looked up to search your room, but the sound of a beep made your eyes focus on the bomb attached to your bedframe, this one a lot bigger, that was rigged to your bedroom door, that you had just set off.

Mycroft heard you gasp, the sound of you running, hearing you muttering repeatedly ‘no, no, no, no”, the sound of you trying to open a door before the call ended. “Y/N?” Mycroft asked. He heard nothing. He tried calling you back, and it didn’t even ring. He got an awful feeling in his stomach and he wanted to be sick, but he looked up at John who looked confused at what was happening, having not heard what he’d heard. “Get me to her flat right now.” 

By the time the pair arrived on your street, it was already blocked off and there was more than one firetruck trying to subdue the fire that was blazing where your flat used to be. Mycroft didn’t speak as he approached, seeing the sight, realising what it was exactly that he heard. He heard his daughter realise she triggered an explosive. He heard his daughter run across the one place she was meant to be safe to the front door. He heard his daughter try and open the door, and realise it was locked and she was trapped inside.

He heard his daughter die, terrified and alone. And for what? Why? Why not him, or Sherlock? He wanted to be angry, demand answers, find who did this and get revenge even if it isn’t lawful, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry right now. Only guilty. He should have spent more time with you. He should have tried harder to be a better parent to you, he should have been kinder, more understanding. He should have been there. 

“John! Mycroft!” Mycroft didn’t hear Mrs Hudson at first as she dashed over as quick as she could- she was sobbing and sniffling, clutching a handkerchief to her face as she approached. 

“Mrs Hudson, what happened?!” John asked alarmed and out of breath. 

“There was a second bomb in the bedroom, when she opened the door it set it off.” She explained. Mycroft finally looked away from the blaze to look at the woman. The call had ended only 20 minutes or so prior, and since the flat was still in fire, so there was no way to examine the scene. 

“How do you know that?” He asked her. She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street, pass the firetrucks, past the police who looked defeated, and towards an ambulance. The back doors were open, and inside he was able to see two paramedics tending to someone in the bed. He felt his heart leap into his throat as he sprinted to the edge and jumped inside, able to finally see your face, an oxygen mask over your face, burns littering your body, and you were unconscious as a paramedic was placing bandaging on one of your burns. “Is she okay? Is my daughter okay?” He demanded answers, one of the paramedics looking up at him. 

“She’s suffered burns and blunt force trauma from the explosion. She was conscious when she was able to get out, but she fell unconscious, and we need to get her to the hospital now. Please sit down if you’re coming with her.” He instructed, and Mycroft followed and sat down. He turned, seeing John and Mrs Hudson stood, staring at you. 

“Please make sure Sherlock finds out who did this. They need to pay for this.” Mycroft demanded. John nodded firmly, before the doors shut, the sirens turned on and the ambulance began to move. Mycroft put his whole focus on you, making sure your chest moved up and down, looking for any sign of you waking up, and more importantly, any sign you were in pain. He only saw you breathing, and he decided for now he should be thankful for that. He didn’t know what exactly he was going to do, but he knew that somehow, someway, he was going to fix this. He was going to make everything better. He had to.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines@huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Julie Andrews (The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins)—Oh where to start .... I'm not sure I even know how. She's just perfection. And it's not fair I can't bring post 70s work into this, because she just gets better and better, and her drag performance in to die for. But in the era I CAN talk about, she shows she has THE RANGE. Beautiful, feisty, funny, holding her own against Christopher Plummer, Paul Newman, Rock Hudson. Oh she's luminous.

Nadira (Shree 420, Dil Apna Aur Preet Parai)— She had a blast playing the femme fatal in Indian films in the 50s. Also the costumes she wore in Shree 420 are absolutely iconic. It's important to mention that she was Jewish. She was born Farhad "Florence" Ezekiel in Baghdad to an Iraqi Jewish family. They moved to India sometime in the 1940s. The funny thing is that she originally wanted to convert to Catholicism and become a nun but joined the film industry instead as her family desperately needed money. Even though she was unfortunately typecast in femme fatale roles after playing the nightclub entertainer Maya in Shree 420, she always gave 110% to every role she was cast in. Apparently she acted in a German film as well? She was also one of the most highly paid actresses in the Indian film industry and was one of the few Indians to own a Rolls Royce.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Julie Andrews propaganda:

"She has such a simple but amazing beauty to her. Not to mention her amazing and melodic singing voice!"

"Roles like nannies and governesses can make us forget how attractive she was! A perfect combination of elegant and adorable, with the most incredible vocal range to boot!"

"Besides having one of the most amazing singing voices ever to grace the silver screen, Julie always had an understated beauty to her that wasn't always shown off on screen. But it's there nonetheless because her characters managed to pull some of the hottest men ever to grace the screen."

"The juxtaposition between carefree Maria and stern but fun Mary Poppins shows the power of the acting of this HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMAN"

"Charming, genteel, incredibly charismatic, beautiful, and has an angelic singing voice to boot. Her screen roles as Maria in The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins are absolutely iconic for a reason and she originated several well-known Broadway roles before those."

"the most beautiful woman 12 year old me had ever seen possibly"

"OMG OMG OMG she’s definitely been submitted before how could she NOT but!!!! I loveeee her so muchhhh rahhhh prebby!!!! cool!!!! mary poppins the beloved <33333 some people dislike it but I love jolly holiday so much because it IS a jolly holiday with Mary!!! no wonder that it’s Mary that we love!!!!!"

"I know many people who were taught in singing lessons "when in doubt, pronounce words how julie andrews would pronounce them." THATS CALLED INFLUENCE. THATS CALLED MOTHERING THOUSANDS."

Nadira:

I just submitted a whole list of golden-era Bollywood stars without whom I thought this tournament could not conscionably be considered complete BUT Nadira has got my personal vote for Hottest of the lot. She played a bunch of delicious vamp roles in her youth before graduating to being a creepy spiderlady antagonist type in middle/older age. Rare is the still in which she looks like she's NOT about to gnaw your face off. Yow!

[wannaeatramyeon]

I love everything you write! Can I request some headcanons for Gun/Goo, crewheads, and the J-Highers? You can choose what you're comfortable writing about

Thanks anon! Just... hc? Ohh this is extremely wide-ranging, I'm panicking. Hope you don't mind if I go for a list with the tiniest sprinkling of hc.

Lookism Boys & Love Languages

Maxed out 2 per person. I feel like I need to explain myself for a few. Some are a vibe, some have an actual reason, some are just bullshit

Giving

Acts of service

Vin Jin: If he likes you, he will be running little errands and doing things for you. He'll grumble and beat himself up for being a simp as he does it, but he does do it.

Jibeom Kwak: Would do anything for his bros, and now that includes you too.

Gun Park: an absolute gentleman. Silently observing and anticipates your needs before you need to ask.

+ Daniel Park, Jay Hong, Zack Lee, Jake Kim, Samuel Seo, Jace Park, Warren Chae, Ryuhei Kuroda, Xiaolong

Physical Touch

Xiaolong: once he is used to you, then absolutely physical touch. This guy is so touch starved, when was the last time he even had an embrace where it wasn't riddled with guilt? Will never get over being able to just reach out and place his hand on your leg, or put his arm around his shoulders. Same reason why he likes to receive.

+ Vin Jin, Logan Lee, Ryuhei Kuroda.

Words of Affirmation

Warren Chae: He's so quiet usually, and never has been very vocal with Sally but she also didn't initially return his affections. Canonically, his sentences and speech got better with his confidence so once you're together? Warren really finds his voice and adores showering you in praises and telling you how much he loves you.

Jihan Kwak: Vibe that he is flirtatious as hell, muttering a lot of sweet nothings that will make you blush and your pulse race.

+ NOT Goo Kim: Honeyed words flow from his mouth to anyone and everyone. Don't bank on anything he says holding a grain of truth.

+ NOT Jake Kim: A bit like Goo Kim, a lot of shit runs from his mouth. Sorry Jake. Jokes, pick-up lines, flirtations, puns. You can't take him seriously half the time and he does it with pretty much everyone.

Quality Time

DG/James Lee: Time is extremely limited for this k-pop idol and one-time limb detacher. If he spends time with you, he must really like you.

Hudson Ahn: Very busy man training, keeping an eye on Ansan and his lackeys, eating snakes in the middle of nowhere with Taesoo. Doesn't give up his time and focus for just anyone.

+ Daniel Park, Zack Lee, Vasco Tabasco, Johan Seong, Gun Park, Goo Kim, Eli Jang, Eugene, Sinu Han, Jace Park

Gifts

Jay Hong: Hard one to place, act of service then split between Gifts and Quality Time but Jay likes traditional gift-giving. Also protects and looks after others with his money too. Will literally buy your way out of trouble. Our capitalist king.

Logan Lee: It's canon.

Johan Seong: To be honest, I imagine him a bit like an outdoor cat, going on adventures and bringing you back gifts that he thinks you'll like. A pair of shoes mysteriously in your size and a bit worn, or maybe just a random flower that was pretty. It was totally Eden and Miro that picked it, not him. Stop looking at him like that!

+Goo Kim, Samuel Seo

Receiving

Acts of service

Actions may speak louder than words, but more because these guys have god complexes and loves you doing things for them.

+ Vin Jin, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo

Physical Touch

Vasco Tabasco: once he's over how deviant touching one another is, he doesn't want you to keep your hands off him. He has a limit though, so please keep the touches quite innocent and pure. Hand holding? YES. Pinching his butt? OBSCENE! (but... maybe... that's ok too.)

DG/James Lee and Gun Park: Not ever on the receiving end of tender touches. Moreso that they're not going to let just anyone get their grubby mitts on them. Something as casual as you linking your arm through theirs? It's different. It's unusual. It's... Nice.

+ Johan Seong, Eugene, Jace Park, Warren Chae, Ryuhei Kuroda, Xiaolong, Hudson Ahn

Words of Affirmation

Daniel Park: Hangover from his childhood, where the only compliments are from his mom. Always nice for him to hear clearly and loudly your love for him. Actually praising his looks though, he can take it or leave it.

Jake Kim: As mentioned, he chats so much shit that he sometimes forgets that being on the receiving end of sincere, loving words can really be beautiful. Especially if they're from you. Genuine compliments and praise will make him blush.

Jibeom Kwak: Middle child syndrome for this and quality time love languages. Attention, please.

+ Zack Lee, Vasco Tabasco, Vin Jin, Jake Kim, Samuel Seo, Jace Park, Warren Chae

Quality Time

What's there to explain? They can't get enough of you. Even something as simple as sitting side by side, scrolling on your own phones. Just being in your presence is enough.

+ Daniel Park, Jay Hong, Zack Lee, Logan Lee, Johan Seong, Jake Kim, Gun Park, Eli Jang, Sinu Han, Ryuhei Kuroda, Jibeom Kwak

Gifts

Goo Kim: Here's a whole little drabble about this. He doesn't need expensive gifts, just tiny small things to show that he's on your mind. Yeah, almost as proof because he's an idiot like that.

Sinu Han: Can't you hear him giggling like a schoolgirl if you handed him a pretty leaf or something?

+ NOT Daniel Park: Jay gave him a wholeass designer wardrobe, and while he was grateful and was clueless about the cost, he didn't seem as fussed as someone who would truly appreciate it as a love language. Finds small things equally nice too.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Red Carpet

PAIRING | Husband!Young!Tony Stark x Wife!Pregnant!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.4K

SUMMARY | You're attending a movie premiere with Tony and are by far the most beautiful woman there if you ask him. From the beautiful dress to your baby bump, Tony couldn't be prouder to share your love with the world. When he goes down on his knees before you in the middle of the red carpet, he will officially make it one to never forget, and you will fall even more in love with your husband.

RATING | General (G)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Established relationship, use of nicknames (My Love, Sunshine)

A/N | This is a surprise and gift for my bestest and dearest friend and biggest supporter @ccbsrmsf1. Carol, quero começar dizendo o quanto sou grato por ter você em minha vida. Você se tornou uma grande parte disso e sou muito grato por você! Assim que você me pediu para usar esta foto do nosso homem, obviamente não pude recusar, e espero que você goste de babar nele enquanto lê minha história. Obrigado por estar na minha vida, e eu te amo 3000 💙

A/N | This is not proofread, so any and all mistakes are my own.

EVENTS Masterlist | @fandombingo | Caught on Camera Masterlist | @slumberpartybingo | Would you rather... Rain OR Sun

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Photo: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | AU Masterlist

"What do you think, My Love? Are we going for red or yellow today?" you ask Tony as you're standing in the middle of your walk-in closet, looking at your two dress options. He's wearing a black suit with a floral shirt, and both possibilities match perfectly, but you're feeling indecisive.

"Hmm, how about the red dress? You know I adore it when you wear the color of passion," Tony says as he stands behind you, his arms wrapping gently around your waist to find their home on your round belly. You're currently 7,5 months pregnant, carrying your second boy and third child overall.

"I like the way you think," you tell him as you melt into his touch. His warm body always feels so comfortable, and when he's holding you like this, it's so intimate in the best way possible. When you're about to say something, you can hear the pitter-patter of feet into your closet, notifying you that one of your other Munchkins is there.

"Are you going with the red dress, Mommy? It's my favorite color!" your daughter Orion says as she joins you and Tony in your cuddle, but she's on your side.

"Yes, Babygirl, I'm going to wear the red dress tonight," you tell her, basking in the love your husband and daughter are giving you. When you're about to ask where Hudson is, he comes in, too, joining the bundle of hugs. Your family now surrounds you, and you couldn't be happier as the butterflies in your chest go wild.

"As much as I love every single one of your hugs, I still need to get dressed for tonight," you tell all three of them with a chuckle, and they all let you go so you can get ready to go to the premiere for a movie in which Tony is playing the main character.

It takes a little while to be fully dressed and ready to go to the premiere, and you're excited to show everyone the finished outfit. Your hair is in a beautiful bun with a few pieces framing your face, and your make-up is light to keep the main focus on your dress - and, of course, your belly.

As you walk into the kitchen, you find Tony talking to Maria, who has happily agreed to watch the twins tonight. As you walk in, you feel like you're floating, which only intensifies when you see Tony's expression. His jaw is almost on the floor as he looks at you while being rendered completely speechless.

The red fabric hugs all your curves beautifully, and the off-shoulder look combined with the low neckline ensures every inch of your upper chest tattoos is displayed. Right above your right collarbone is one of the ones you're most proud of: Tony's name written in his handwriting.

"You look stunning, Sunshine," Tony whispers as he walks over to you. His mom is long forgotten as he only has eyes for you. The smile on your face hasn't been this big in a while, and your husband once again manages to make you feel like you're the center of the universe - which, in his defense, you are to him.

"You look amazing too, Tony and tonight is all about you, so I hope my outfit won't take too much attention away from you." You have never been one to enjoy the spotlight particularly, but sometimes, during nights like this, you make an exception and go with Tony to celebrate him and his achievements.

His deep, dark brown eyes look into yours, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tries to see if you genuinely believe what you just said.

"Oh Sunshine, my sweet, beautiful, amazing Sunshine. With the way you look tonight, there's not a single person who will even dare to look away from you. I am sure all eyes will be on you, and I am happy. Tonight is just as much about you as it is about me because I want to show off the woman I fell in love with, and I want to show everyone our love," he says with his hand on your belly.

"Okay, okay! Now let's go before I have to reapply my mascara!" you tell him with a breathy laugh, trying hard to fight against the tears threatening to spill at his beautiful confession. He agrees, and with one last goodbye to your twins and Maria, you're out the door and on your way to the premiere.

"Are you ready to walk down the red carpet, Sunshine?" Tony asks as he stands before you, his hands resting on your face to calm you down. The nerves are soaring through your body, and he helps to calm you down.

"Y-yeah, let's do this," you answer him after a deep breath, and he places a small peck on your lips before letting your face go and grabbing your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. After one last reassuring smile, you two walk onto the carpet, flashing lights everywhere.

The hand not holding Tony's rests comfortably on your belly, showing it off even more. Photographers left and right are shouting your husband's name, and he seems to revel in every bit of attention he can get. You look over at him, only to find him staring back at you with a beaming smile, and you lean in for a small kiss.

When your lips touch his, the crowd around you goes wild, making you feel loved. Of course, you have seen all the articles about you and Tony being Hollywood's power couple, but it only seems real once you attend events like this together. Far too soon for your liking, he pulls away, ready to move on to the next part of the carpet. What he does there, however, completely catches you by surprise, and you will look back on these photos with a huge smile later.

Tony sinks to his knees in front of you, his face level with your belly as he peppers it with a generous amount of kisses everywhere. His hands stroke it softly, and you can't help but laugh at your husband's weird antics.

It's no surprise he's proud of the fact that you're pregnant because of him, and this only intensifies it. Before getting up, he places his head against your belly for a few seconds with his eyes closed, taking in the moment. It's just you, him, and your beautiful baby boy in your belly - the rest of the world has fallen outside your little bubble.

"I love you so much, Sunshine," he tells you before placing one last kiss on your lips and moving on, ready for the interview parts of the red carpet. When you encounter the first interviewer, they immediately discuss what Tony has just done.

"So, Y/N, what did you think of Tony's actions just now?" the woman asks, and you laugh loudly before answering, shaking your head in response.

"Honestly, I wouldn't have expected anything else. Let's be honest: we all know he's a little crazy but also deeply in love. Not just with me, but also with our baby," you answer, and Tony nods in agreement, unable to take his eyes off you.

"How does it feel to be attending tonight's celebration with your beautiful wife?" she asks Tony, who blushes lightly as the woman calls you his wife. Sometimes, he still can't believe he got so lucky with you, and to call you his wife is the cherry on top for him.

"It feels amazing! She's there for me no matter what, during good times and bad, through rain and sun, and I wouldn't want it any other way. She's doing a great job building her career as a real estate agent while carrying our third baby, and I'm incredibly proud of everything she does. She's the love of my life, and every day, I thank my lucky stars for being hers," Tony tells the lady, who can't stop smiling at his answer.

"To have her by my side on nights like these is something I will never take for granted, of course, and I'm always deeply thankful for her, and I can't wait to grow old with her!" Tony finishes the interview before leaning in and kissing you again, this time more passionately than before.

"I love you so much, Sunshine," he tells you, and you tell him how much you also love him. This night will be unforgettable, and you're looking forward to many more nights like this one, as long as you can have your husband by your side.